The Children of Night and Blood
by Arienna
Summary: Barely out of her training in Undercity Anasteria, a Blood Elf priestess, is taken captive on her first mission. Under the cruel treatment of her captors, she finds one that defies years of hatred and bloodshed to help her. Blood Elf/Night Elf R/R, please
1. Father Knows Best

**The Children of Night and Blood**

_Please note that I do not hold any copyright to the story of World of Warcraft or any names associated with the franchise thereof. I was not paid to write this fanfic. This story isn't 100 loyal to the lore, I've chosen it to be like this for creativity's sake. The story will start off in short chapters and I will lengthen them if I see people are interested in the story, so please R/R! Please be forewarned that the later chapters will get violent and sexual. I will change the rating to M when that happens. Hope you like it!_

**Update: Chapters 1-4 have been merged into two conjoined chapters since both of them were really short anyway.**

* * *

Beads of sweat rolled down Anasteria's face as she retrieved the crucible from the furnace. Her father sat at the workbench across from her, inspecting a batch of freshly cooled rubies.

"I tell you, thank the Sun for this batch. We'll have no worries when it comes time for you to marry one day, eh dearest?"

She ignored the subtle hint and gingerly set the crucible on the stone slab to cool. Of all the jewelers in Silvermoon, her family was by far the most successful. Having money in Silvermoon, however, did little for social mobility. The only way such mobility could take place for the Sin'dorei was through prowess in the battlefield. The Duskblaze family had none of that. Of the four children birthed by Caellara Duskblaze, only the oldest was of age to be accepted into the academy for further training. The rest polished, cleaned, and fixed the jewelry sold by their father.

With Anasteria being the second oldest, certain expectations began to surface. "Do you know why I named you Anasteria, my dearest?" her father would say. "I named you after King Anasterian Sunstrider who, for all his bravery and might, was most famous for one thing: being the father of Prince Kael'thas. I just know that you will be blessed with such a child when you marry one day." Anasteria knew for certain that King Anasterian was known for much more than the child he sired, but would always nod assent. She had one definite goal in life and it was definitely not becoming someone's wife. Either way, she'd never thought of herself as being wifely-- much less womanly. She was blonde, as were many of her race, but not that shade of golden sunshine or platinum as the other girls had. Her hair was a shade darker and could only be dully summed as "dark blonde." The scorching heat of the furnace brought her away from those thoughts and back to her one true dream: to become a priestess. She would have to wait three more months to see if the Sunstrider Academy of Healing Studies accepted her.

And three months later, there it was. Her hand shook as she held the parchment reading it aloud to her parents and siblings. Mother leapt up and pulled her close, murmuring words of praise, but her father's face was as rigid as the stones he cut.

"I forbid it," he said curtly.

Caellara spun around to face her husband, "By the Sun, husband, what has gotten into you?" she snapped.

He rose from the chair, "I've every right to look out for my daughter's safety and I don't want her spending the rest of her life as a battlefield medic!"

By now, the younger children stopped eating and stared in dumb silence. Anasteria set the parchment down and buried her face in her hands. She expected the quarrel beforehand and planned around it.

"Father," she said, loud enough to cut her mother off mid-sentence. "I have no intention of entering battle, you know that as well as I. I can't remain here and shine baubles for the rest of my life though. I promise to marry, but I want to learn!" She watched his jaw tighten as her words sunk in. Father never liked being crossed, but Anasteria knew she had to take her future into her own hands. "I promise that after I'm ordained as a priestess of the Light, I will marry." Being married was something that she hadn't deeply considered, but she knew that her sovereignty had to be sacrificed if she wanted his permission.

"Alright, daughter," his face softened to its normal expression, "I accept your compromise. You have never gone back on your word, but if you do, I will feel nothing but shame when I look at you."

Anasteria nodded, knowing that being "looked upon with shame" was her father's way of saying that he would disown her. It hadn't been fair. Anasteria knew that her father chose to stand in her way only because he wanted her to marry up the ranks to some holier-than-thou paladin who would display her along with his war trophies. She wouldn't have any of that.

* * *

Anasteria hadn't entirely kept her promise about never setting foot on a battlefield. Aftter a year and a half at the academy, she regularly healed the rangers battling the Scourge in the Dead Scar. In the meantime, she studied fervently and was entranced in the lessons given by the elder priests. Priestess Elluine had been her most challenging instructor of all.

"Who can tell me the difference between Undead priests and Sin'dorei ones?" she asked one day, eyes scanning her pupils for a volunteer.

Anasteria eagerly raised her hand, "The Sin'dorei use maces as combat weapons, while the Undead use daggers" she stated confidently.

"Wrong," replied the priestess crisply.

Belca waved her own hand in the air and shouted "I know what the difference is. Undead priests are about as comely as a Wyvern's arse!"

The class roared in laughter that only died down when a large book was slammed against the desk.

"The difference," Elluine continued, "is that the Undead do not follow the principles of the Light. They instead chose to pervert the path of Light into their own religion called 'The Forgotten Shadow.' We will not be teaching such philosophies in this academy, but it is my duty to make it known to you all that this religion of the Forsaken encourages them to inflict damage, rather than heal."

The ways of the Shadow Priests enchanted Anasteria and she searched the dusty shelves of the library for any information that expanded on The Forgotten Shadow. The idea of a path of priesthood that went beyond merely healing and "making swooshy hand motions" (as many non-priests had joked about) thrilled her. She managed to only find a few books on the religion, but set them beside her eagerly. The academy library was immense and lavishly decorated, as was the style of Blood Elves. Anasteria jotted down notes under the dim glow of the chandelier of blue orbs, but paused when she heard the shuffling of feet nearby. Priestess Elluine stepped into the blue glow and Anasteria involuntarily shielded her notebook with her arms.

"Studying late, are we?" remarked the priestess coolly.

"Um, yes. I.. I was just studying about.. shield bubbles. _Shield bubbles? _She thought, cross with herself for being so incompetent at lying.

"Well then, I suppose one of the lazy male students left "The Grimoire of the Forsaken" lying around again." She looked up at her elder, feigning innocence as best she could and nodded. The priestess continued, "I have a prospect for you, child. With the ties between the Forsaken and the Sin'dorei forming more tightly, our academies have been in communication about the.. exchange of knowledge and information."

Anasteria looked up at Elluine, thoroughly confused. "I thought you were against the 'perversion of Light' in Shadow practices." The priestess paused, wondering how to best formulate her explanation.

"At present, the council at the academy has not approved the addition of Shadow philosophies into our curriculum. However, if you are willing, we can send you as our first student ambassador to the Academy of Shadow Arts and Healing in Undercity."


	2. Stranger in a Strange City

**Stranger in a Strange (Under)City**

At first, Anasteria was unsure whether she would like Undercity or not. She had seen very few undead, but was still unsure about the matter altogether. Priestess Elluine assured her that the Undead would welcome her knowledge and share some of their own. What assured Anasteria most was that she could teleport home instantly using the translocation orb. Her stomach lurched as the lift soared downward at a less than gentle speed. _I guess the Undead have no need for hand rails._ The doors whooshed open and Anasteria was greeted by three men. The first took her hand in his own ragged one and shook it . A shiver of revulsion ran down her body as he did so, but was forcefully stifled.

"I am Edridge Blacktongue, Miss Anasteria. Headmaster of the academy. Such a pleasure it is." His voice had a slight echo to it due to the hollowness of his body. She attempted a not-so-graceful curtsey and he turned to introduce the two men flanking him.

"This is dean Pritchard Brackenwine and.." he turned to introduce the fastidiously-dressed redheaded Blood Elf beside him, "Tasius Bloodthistle. Assistant ambassador to Undercity" Tasius bowed elegantly to Anasteria, his emerald eyes fixed on her.

After three weeks in Undercity, Anasteria was finally able to masterfully navigate around. A few close calls with slipping into the sewage duct taught her about the importance of bridges. The only frustration she was experiencing was in her studies. She had gotten used to the decayed flesh and wild hair of her undead peers, but they had apparently not gotten used to her. They looked at her with a peculiar expression that showed both jealousy and awe. Either way, it didn't help. She was homesick for the Elven delicacies of baked pears with spiced honey or a glass of pomegranate juice on a warm day. As she meditated each morning, her mind drifted back to all the little things she missed about home. There was a swift knock at the door of the dormitory, making her jump.

"Master Bloodthistle calls to see you, miss," the servant rasped.

Anasteria nodded and followed her to the archway of the entrance where Tasius was standing. With a winning smile, he took her hand (all too familiarly, she might add) and briefly touched his lips to it. At a loss of words for his over exuberance, she stammered out a greeting. He rose gracefully from the bow and offered his arm.

"I came to see if you wanted some company, miss Duskblaze. When I first arrived here a year ago, I shut myself in my room for weeks wishing I had accepted a post somewhere that was a little more..." he paused, searching for the words, but she found them first,

"Cheerful?" she added helpfully. Tasius was a vision. A perfectly-sculpted body that was made for sin. She blushed, pushing away the thought.

He flashed that same winning smile. "Yes, cheerful. Yet, Undercity takes a certain getting used to. There are actually fine places to eat and some clothing shops. I can show you, if you're interested."

_Clothing shops? Is this guy blind? I obviously don't aim high in the fashion scene._ She blushed at the thought of him helping her pick out a cloak that was most flattering to her figure.

"I'd.. like to try the food here. They cook it, right?"

His muscular chest shook as a warm chuckle erupted, "Of course, my lady. Let me show you to it."

She had to admit that the days she spent with Tasius brought them closer. They talked about where they came from, what their families were like, and what they missed most about Quel'Thalas.

"I was always a little embarrassed of my surname growing up," he said as they sipped their spiced wine on the steps of the Royal Quarter.

"Our family name honors a "herb" that worms its way into every spot of ground where the sunshine hits. I wanted a surname like Dawnblade or Sundagger" he chuckled as he emptied his cup.

Anasteria set her own cup down and turned to him, "Well, it didn't hold you back. Look where you are now. A strong handsome paladin working as assistant to the ambassador." She felt her cheeks flush at the words that just slid out of her mouth.

"Forgive me," she corrected herself hastily, "I've never had wine before today."

The corners of Tasius's mouth turned upward in a faint smile and he paused. "If I may be so bold to tell you, you look most stunning when you blush." He gently lifted her chin and she yielded to his tender kiss.

Days later, she was still thinking about that kiss. She had eventually come to the conclusion that, yes, the kiss was nice and she wouldn't mind if he did it again. His lips were soft and he smelled so nice up close. There were only two times in Anasteria's life where she had been kissed. The first was when she had just entered upper primary school and Thorin Thorncutter placed a sloppy wet kiss on her during a game of _Dares and Double Dares._ The second was years later behind her father's shop with Fedrelis, the shop boy. She remembered cuffing him on the head when his tongue prodded its way past her teeth and into her mouth. Love interests aside, Anasteria was learning more each day. The past month had been focused on teaching her the philosophy of Shadow magic and how it reinterpreted the ways of the Light, but now she was being taught the spells and techniques. What she lacked in her old academy, she made up for in this one. Professor Lockhart praised her openly in class as she demonstrated the various spells that could torment an enemy's mind, depleting its health in seconds. There was something about shadow magic that gave Anasteria some sense of empowerment. She was no longer unprotected and weak.

Ambassador Sunsorrow must have dozed off while Lady Sylvanas was speaking, for he felt a hard pinch on his shoulder.

"I've no time for games!" she snapped.

As important as the alliance was with the Lady, he couldn't help but daydream during her furious ravings about things including, but not limited to, Arthas and the audacity that Cyssa Dawnrose has to gossip about her fashion sense.

"I apologize, my lady" he replied quickly. The ambassador was about to slip back into daydreams when a servant shuffled into the room, bowed deeply, and placed a letter in his hands. He took one look at the envelope and excused himself. The letter was from Sirai Dayleaf, a former comrade of Sunsorrow's who was now stationed in The Barrens. He held it up to the torchlight and examined the delicately-penned Thalassian letters:

"_Bal'a dash, Ambassador,_

_I hope this letter finds you well and prosperous. I write to ask a favor of you and hope that you will be able to aid us in our battle against the Alliance. The usual skirmishes that have happened at Warsong Gulch, but have increased in frequency as of late. Attacks are happening multiple times a day. We are unable to gather wood at an efficient pace and may be forced to delay the building of military equipment. I have sought help from various brave Sin'dorei, yet we will need more. Please spare what you can. _

_May the Eternal Sun guide you,_

_S. Dayleaf_"

He pocketed the letter and called a servant over to fetch Tasius. He would be able to provide a few men and he had been meaning to find a real job for the young man after his mother had written, pleading with the ambassador to send him to fight so that he may gain honor. Aside from that, the ambassador disliked the boy, due to some bad history between the two. Either way Tasius was intelligent and hardworking. The young man strode up to him with that same annoying grin that Sunsorrow wanted to slap off of his face.

"I have an assignment for you, lad," he began. "Your services are needed in Warsong Gulch. It would seem that those Alliance thugs are making scheduled attacks on the lumber yard and I need my ships and wagons built."

Tasius tightened his lips and replied "I will do everything I can in the service of our people, Ambassador.."

Sunsorrow was about to clap the boy on the back and promise him a promotion, but he was preempted. "However," continued Tasius, "I must ask a small favor from you.. on behalf of the priestess studying here."


	3. Light at the end of the Tunnel

_AN: Thanks for the feedback! I have several chapters already mapped out, so this story will definitely continue for a while. Hope you enjoy, I love reading everyone's reviews!_

Tasius had kissed her twice since their last encounter. It was a bright afternoon and he had finished his duties early. As the two were skipping stones at Lordamere Lake, he paused and turned to face her. "Ambassador Sunsorrow needs me to go to Warsong Gulch." The news offset Anasteria's throw and caused the stone to plunk into the water without a skip. "I see," she whispered. "I want to keep seeing you, Ana. I have a plan." His eyes fixed on hers and she waited for him to continue. "There is a way that I could get you stationed close by. You'd not be in any danger and your healing services would be needed." She tore her eyes from his gazed and quietly said, "It seems you have thought this through already without me. I'll think about it."

She thought non-stop about it. She was to graduate from her program in a few days and would be sent back to complete her next year in Silvermoon. While at the academy in the Undead city, her mother and siblings had visited her only once. She knew that it was because of the general grotesque vibe (not to mention smell) that the city gave off. Mother thought it best to send letters instead. She slid her finger under the flap of the envelope and pulled out the most recent letter. It was the usual, the children being boisterous, business going well, et cetera. She skimmed down to the last paragraph. "_Your father and I have been searching for suitable men who are worthy of your affection. We've come up with two suitors, both are handsome and earned honors on the battlefield. I cannot wait for you to meet them when you come home." _Anasteria folded the letter mechanically and set it on her desk. Her father, knowing that time would make her more likely to back out of the deal, started early. She thought of maybe telling her father about Tasius. He hadn't yet been on the battlefield, but he contained a position of some power. _Some power. He was merely an assistant, a file clerk and letter writer more or less._ Telling her father would do no good. She knew that she wasn't ready for marriage, be it to Tasius or anyone else. She wanted to get away from this situation, it hadn't been fair from the beginning and she had no reason to waste her hard work on mastering the arts of healing and shadow magic for the sake of pushing out blonde paladin babies. She would see what could be done about Tasius' plan.

"You'd be stationed in the Orc outpost of Splintertree," Tasius pointed to the map. "We'd be less than a day's journey from each other. Even more, they're bringing in an alchemist and herbalist. You'd be able to take up a profession and heal any of our allies that are attacked by those scum-elves." She didn't need him to convince her any longer. He knew of the hardship her parents were putting her through and that this was her best option. "I'll do it, my dearest."

* * *

Priestess Elluine thought herself to be a genius. It was her duty to inform the parents that their daughter had caught the Zeppelin to The Barrens and was not coming home. She laid back on the divan and admired her skill and cunning. Purposely throwing them off course in case they mounted a search for her, she told the family that the girl went to Thousand Needles It was all meant to be. She and her son Tasius pulled it off brilliantly and Anasteria would walk into the future that Elluine had deliberately crafted for her without even knowing it. She was fond of the girl and wished her no ill will, but she knew that it was essential that the child's talent be used for the good of the Sin'dorei. "We are now able to produce priest-killers, little one. Those Night Elves will have a harder time ravaging the outposts in Ashenvale without anyone to heal them," she said to Teacup. The Siamese purred in response and burrowed its head into her palm.

* * *

Zeppelins were, by far, the most unpleasant mode of transportation Anasteria had ever been on. They were loud, they stank, and there was never anywhere comfortable to sit. She sat on the deck with her back propped up against the cabin wall. Tasius was standing at the port bow, admiring the view. She wanted to join him but knew that "taking in the view" would cause her to bless the town of Brill with a shower of vomit. She closed her eyes and calmed herself by thinking about the difference she would make as a newly ordained priestess. The sickness faded and she was able open her eyes again. They left early in the morning and she had no time to meditate. Tasius returned and sat down beside her, circling his arm around her shoulders. "Don't worry, love, these Goblins are geniuses with zeppelins. These things can travel faster than any other non-magical transport."

Hours later, the zeppelin lurched to a stop at the flight tower in Durotar and Anasteria stumbled out. They booked their flights with the Wyvern masters and were set to leave early tomorrow; Tasius to The Crossroads for briefing and Anasteria to Splintertree. "I hope you don't have any trouble getting to the camp from The Crossroads," she commented as they made their way to the inn. "I'll be issued a mount when I arrive, no worries." He flashed that carefree smile at her and she felt herself involuntarily smile back.

The couple slept soundly that night, exhausted after the zeppelin ride. The woke the next morning with arms around each other and laid there for a moment to talk about the day's events. "How soon will I see you?" Anasteria asked, her finger tracing invisible lines along his muscled chest. "I don't know," he replied, then supplemented, "I'll be able to come to you when the warchief gives me leave." Tasius hoisted himself up and rose to wash his face. She inched into the warm spot he left and laid there for a few moments before rising.

They kissed goodbye at the Wyverns and Tasius pressed a small package into her hand. "Something I've been wanting to give you this for a while," he murmured as she opened it. It was an exquisitely-crafted necklace of gold flowers linked together and inlaid with citrine and amber. Anasteria fingered the pattern as he clasped it around her neck. "See you soon, dearest," he said after pulling her to an embrace. Then, he alighted the Wyvern and left.

* * *

"I will tear that girl's head off when I see her," fumed Dorial Duskblaze. He called his son home when he learned that Anasteria flew off for Kalimdor. His wife tried to soothe him, but he shrugged her off. "She has disgraced our family by refusing to honor the only promise she has ever made. I will not have it! Ca'seras, I want you to fetch your sister at once." Ca'seras bristled at the demanding tone his father was taking and snarled, "Firstly, I've not a clue where she is and, secondly, I'm just a bloody Warlock! What will you have me do? Send my imp to find her?" His little sister Clorielle giggled every time he mentioned the ragged little imp. Dorial straightened, turned to his son, and slapped him hard. "You will find her, or so help me, I will make sure you don't get money for next year's tuition. As for where she is..her professor said that she took the zeppelin to The Barrens. She's planning to fly to Thousand Needles to help that heretic, Magistrix Elosai, with her research." Rubbing his face, Ca'seras bowed his head and simply said, "I will find her."


	4. Arrival and Attack

**Arrival and Attack  
**

* * *

Ashenvale was a drenched by rainfall when Anasteria arrived. The Wyvern slid in the mud as he landed, muddying her boots and skirt.

"Greetings, elf." barked an unintentionally harsh voice to her left. "I am Mastok, I guard this camp. You are to heal our warriors when we come under attack?"

_Under attack?_ Mastok's eyes narrowed and he answered the question that was looming in her mind, "Your people did not tell you that we are raided every week by those scum-elves?"

Not wanting him to delve into the mucky politics between the two races, she simply replied "I was told that I would heal the injured." The scowl on the Orc's face didn't fade and she assumed that that was, indeed, how his face must always look. A female Tauren quietly made her way to the group and said, in the softest voice Anasteria had ever heard, "I am Senani Thunderheart. Let me show you your bed, little one."

It was hard to sleep that night. Her bed, if one could call it that, was the carved out ledge of a stone wall. She had grown so used to the city and laid awake for hours before drifting off into a fitful sleep. Senani woke her up the next morning with a bowl of porridge and bread. She was kind and gentle, as most Taurens were. Hired as a scout, she also coordinated hunting parties to bring in meat for storage.

"So the outpost gets attacked every week?" she asked the Tauren.

"More or less. The Kal'dorei have become agitated with the Horde for the destruction of the forests and they hope to drive us from it," Senani paused and hesitated. She continued, "My people are used to living at one with Earth Mother and I see the reasoning of the Night Elves. Yet, they come here under shadowform at night and slaughter the Wyverns or unarmed folk. It's not right." Anasteria nodded assent and finished her breakfast.

She was put to work the next day, just like everyone else at the outpost. She emptied scrap meat into the troughs for the Wyverns and cleaned out the straw in their pens. Life wasn't half bad right then and it was certainly better than returning home to her potential suitors. She asked Senani when the herbalist and alchemist were due to arrive and the Tauren stared at her blankly, "There would be no way we could house two masters of their professions here! Yet, I do know some about the herbs of this area. I can teach you how to grind them for potions."

_Had Tasius lied to me, or was he mistaken?_ Tasius was always confident that she had never second-guessed most of what he said. Either way, there had to have been a mix-up of some sort.

* * *

Tasius landed in The Crossroads without a hitch. He mounted a chestnut Palfrey and galloped north to the Orc camp. While in The Crossroads, he received a letter from his mother asking how things went with Anasteria. He knew that his mother was manipulating him into courting her, but she assured him that it was for a selfless cause. She had done so much for her son already and he couldn't let on that he doubted her. She laid out the plan concisely, right down to where he should take her on their dates in Undercity. He wished he could tell her that he veered off her plan by buying her a necklace. Yet, he kept those rebellious words from reaching the parchment. He was supposed to be looking forward to battling Alliance filth, but he felt no great excitement for Warsong Gulch. Disappointing adoring females wasn't anything new to him, but Tasius knew that she had never deserved to be led on like that. To reassure him, his mother would say, "If you didn't delight her with your company, she would be homesick and want to leave. It's important that you're genuine." Tasius was tiring of being "genuine."

* * *

A loud squawk breached the thick night air at the post. Anasteria bolted upright and turned to the window. A Wyvern was flapping its wings madly and the other two animals joined in. "Get your weapons!" a distant voice bellowed, waking any who had managed to sleep during the ruckus. On the balls of her feet, she crept to the other end of the large room where Senani's bedroll was. The Tauren had been awakened too and was already buckling on her armor. "Stay behind me, young one. The Night Elves are back." Anasteria's throat instantly felt parched and she swallowed hard. There were sounds of battle now, swords parrying and cries of agony. She calmed herself and quickly followed Senani out of the hall. The camp was overrun with Night Elves, slashing at the thick-skinned Orcs and slaughtering the Wyverns. Seeing an Orc pinned down under two elves, she cast a shield on him so he could regain his position. "Heal me!" boomed another Orc who was furiously battling three elves off of him high a hammer the size of a child. Anasteria lifted her hands and invoked the Light to soothe his body. She remained behind Senani, hoping that the Tauren could fend off the dozens of elves. She raised her hands to ready another spell, but something caused her to slump forward in a daze.

* * *

The Keepers of Ashenvale had executed their previous raids of the heathen outpost perfectly, but this run veered off course from the start. With the new moon out, they would have had the advantage of being cloaked in almost complete shadow, but nocturnal Wyverns detected them and shrieked. Rowan emerged from stealth and slit the throat of the beast, whispering a short prayer to Elune for forgiveness. The Keepers, mostly rogues and hunters, were more than effective at slaughtering the Horde monsters at close quarters and from far away rather than using the strength of a warrior.

"They aren't going down as fast, and I can feel someone casting shadow magic" Sidrith rasped at his shoulder.

"They must've brought in a priest, I'll scout it." Rowan re-stealthed and crept along the walls until he saw what was causing the tables to turn.

It was a female elf-traitor barraging the elves and healing the Orc fighters a split second later. He gritted his teeth in disgust and made a wide arc around the building, coming up beside her at an unnoticeable distance. _I thought that only the Undead could cast such magic._ Removing a slingshot and a small rock from his belt, he aimed it at the woman's temple and released. She slumped forward instantly and the rogue slashed at her, both daggers wielded. The Blood Elf casted a shield over herself and ran. Before he could catch up to her, the large cow in front of her turned around and knocked him off balance with her mace.

The Orcs' last attempt to rally nearly cost them their victory, but The Keepers had won. The survivors were bound, gagged, and crammed into a cage awaiting transport. The Orcs would most likely be permanent prisoners of war, but the temperament of Taurens made most of them excellent as slaves. Despite their significant victory, Rowan wasn't feeling the widespread cheer. There was no account of the Blood Elf girl.

When he told his comrade about what happened, Sidrith shrugged and replied, "Let her run home crying."

Rowan sighed, exasperated at his friend's slowness. "We can't afford to let her 'run home crying,' the Orcs in North Barrens are too close to us right now. We'd not be able to fend off another attack if they came as backup." They were lifting crates of pillaged supplies into the wagon. Sidrith wiped his brow and said, "Tell captain."

Captain Moonstrider sent Rowan and huntress Vorena to search the woods for her."Sir Duncan would wantall of them taken in. Be back before we leave." He turned on his heel and continued directing his men. Vorena was a little too muscular for one of their kind, with a figure much more suited for that of a warrior. Her wolf padded a few yards in front, sniffing out a trail that led them toward the Falfarren River.

"The bitch probably swam across so she could make her way to the Orc camp at the shore." Vorena cleared her throat and spat.

"Are you sure she didn't cross it to throw off the scent?" asked Rowan, doing his best to ignore her coarse habits.

"Kava isn't a house dog that gives up tracking because of a little creek. There are plenty of ways to seek her out other than by scent," she laughed

They came upon the river and the huntress motioned for him to be still. Her was fixed on the bank of the river, where the shore sloped to meet the water. Kava darted forward and pounced on the target, dragging the elf-girl, kicking and screaming, toward her captors. The huntress brought out ropes for binding, but she jerked her hands away, hurling a gob of spit at the huntress' cheek. Rowan grabbed her wrist, unsheathed his dagger and snarled, "If you value any of your fingers, I suggest you cooperate."

She stared wildly into the Night Elf's eyes, half terrified and half confused at his perfect command of Thalassian.With her hands tightly bound, she was unceremoniously dragged back and shoved into the cage. Her hopes plummeted after a scan of the surroundings. _Everyone has been captured. _There was no sign of Senani.

"Have you seen the Tauren huntress?" she asked the captive beside her.

The Orc's red eyes glowed, "She fell courageously after slaughtering five scum-elves," he replied. She drew in a deep quivering breath and forced herself to hold back her tears. The wagon jolted forward at the sound of a whistle and the line moved forward.


	5. Sir Duncan

_This is where things get Mature, folks. I was going to put the mature sections in italics, but figured that there would be a lot of subsequent chapters with large chunks of italicized text (and that could get annoying). Thank you for your R+R's so far, I hope I'm keeping things interesting enough! _

**Sir Duncan**

* * *

All Anasteria knew was that they were heading north, possibly to Astranaar. The train of wagons stopped for a break and two guards came in with water and dry bread. The jug was proffered to her by one of them, and her eyes fixed onto his as she took a sip. He jerked the jug back, and cuffed the side of her head. She shrank back and mentally took note to not make eye contact in the future. The sun lazily sank down the Ashenvale hills and she found herself drifting in and out of sleep. The cart lurched to a standstill and her eyes caught the distant lights of a town. They drew closer and passed through the gates of Astranaar. "Get up! Sir Duncan is here for inspection," a Night Elf guard roared in halting Orcish. A human, flanked by two elves bearing scrolls, stood at the door of the cage. He made his way around the confine, assigning each captive to a group. By the time he had reached the corner where she sat, there were two definite groups. At first, Anasteria assumed that they were being divided by race, but a few Tauren males were sent to the assumed Orc group. When the human came to her he paused, his eyes resting on her for an uncomfortable moment before turning to the guards. The guard grabbed her arm and thrust her upright to face the man. He was ugly, like all humans were. His pale grey eyes were nearly covered by a shock of greasy black hair. He motioned to one of the guards and they pulled her out of the cage. "Lucky day for you, blood-scum," said one of the guards, "Looks like you live."

She was dragged stumbling to what looked like an inn. The crowd of men in the front parlor paused their conversation as they watched her be led to the upper floor. The architecture of Night Elves was unique in that it utilized ramps that connected the ground floor to the upper open-air levels. This openness was a stark contrast to the dank windowless sanctums of her own people. She had little time to ponder architecture though. Anasteria knew she was in danger, perhaps not of being killed, but of being hurt. They reached the top floor and one of the guards filled a basin with water. "Wash," barked the larger guard, thrusting her toward the bowl. The pair left and she drank hungrily from the basin before dirtying it with her hands. The room was dimly lit, the moon's soft glow illuminating the area. She stepped toward the balcony and leaned on the engraved balustrade, estimating the drop downward.

"The fall would kill you." She wheeled around to face the voice behind her. The human strode in and was unbuttoning his brown leather surcoat. "Don't come near me," she said breathlessly, her heart hiccuped at the sight of him. The corners of his mouth curled upward into a lazy smile and continued toward her. She shrank against the stone railing as he drew nearer. "This is the thanks I get for not having you sent to the mines to work or, even better, decapitated?"

By now, his face was inches from her own. "I would rather die than be your mistress," she spat.

"Take it back," he demanded.

"Never."

Within a fraction of a second of speaking that last syllable, Duncan grabbed her hair, spinning her around so she faced the open night. Strengthening the grip on her hair, he shoved her body forward, so that her upper half was hanging perilously over the railing. "Are you so sure? It's an awful long way down there and you'd only be ravaged by the dogs and vultures." Her body jerked with spasms of terror and she tried not to look down. With his mouth close to her ear, he snorted, "I've killed plenty of your people before, little elf. Women, children, it wouldn't pain me to toss one more to the pyre." _He'd really do it. _She shrank back, her body collapsing helplessly against his. "I'll do what you want, please.. please, just don't drop me." He pulled her safely back from the balustrade, lifted her chin with his forefinger and smiled at the elf's tear-stained face, "Good girl."

He pulled the cord around her waist and the robe fell open, revealing sheer cotton chemise underneath. Duncan's eyes devoured her body and he threw the robe to the floor. Anasteria's muscles tensed, attempting steel themselves against the human's sickening caresses. His hands were roaming her barely-clothed body now, his head buried into her neck. When a chill breeze blew into the room, her nipples involuntarily hardened. He mistook the reflex as a sign that he was pleasing her and pulled her close so that his desire was pressed firmly against her. Despite being a priest, she had never very been religious. However, she thanked every deity she could name for their divine intervention in the form of a knock at the door. Still holding her in thrall, he said, "Come in."

* * *

Rowan paused at the unbelievably awkward situation presented before him. "Captain Moonstrider calls for you, sir," he said, trying to keep his eyes on his superior, "He says it's urgent." The human sighed in exasperation and opened his mouth to protest, but thought better of it. _Damn elves never did have any concept of privacy, _he thought, looking around at the virtually wall-less structure. He straightened and re-buttoned his surcoat. "Guard the door. If she makes any trouble, punish her." Rowan saluted and Sir Duncan gave Anasteria a last look over his shoulder before descending the ramp.

The Blood Elf fetched her robe from the floor and clutched it protectively over her body. The wind lifted her long honey-colored locks gently, giving her an ethereal quality. He backed out of the room and shut the door behind him, locking it from the outside. On the other side of the door, Anasteria threw her robe over her shoulders and wondered if she would ever get out of this alive. Tasius wasn't here to save her and neither were the Orcs or Senani. She rose from the bed and tip-toed to the door.

"Elf," she whispered in her native tongue. There was a hesitant pause on the other side.

"What do you want?"

Anasteria hadn't actually thought of what she wanted. She wanted to get away from this place, obviously, but needed a way out. She decided to be conversational.

"Where did you learn Thalassian? I know some of your kind speak Orcish, but never our language." The pause felt longer this time.

" I worked as a spy in the Ghostlands. Our languages are similar. Wasn't hard." the Night Elf replied curtly.

She sighed, knowing that his acute ears heard it and went back to the bed. A servant came in and lit the brazier in the room, but she didn't feel any of the heat from it. She was alone in a foreign land, captive by foreigners..foreign enemies.

"He's back," came the guard's voice. "You'd do best not to resist."

_Easy for you to say_, she thought bitterly.


	6. The Fragility of Courage

_AN: Thank you, Pho3nixfire, for the great support and advice. I look forward to reading all reviews, so please leave one if you enjoyed this story (or didn't, heh)._

**The Fragility of Courage**

* * *

A glimmer of clarity found its way into Anasteria's terrified mind and the inkling of a plan took root. Her mind traveled along the possibilities, complications, and preparations before she let herself believe it was feasible. _It would cost me a lot of my magical energy,_ she thought. Sir Duncan entered the room and she rose to face him. He looked slightly more frazzled than before, his black hair exceedingly unruly and his skin took on an almost cadaverous pallor. The human took a long swig of some noxious liquor from his flask before finally acknowledging her.

"So tell me, darling, are you a maiden?" He paused before saying the word "maiden," his eyes glazing over with drunken lust. She readied herself and stepped backward toward the balcony, her heart pounding in anticipation. He took a long stride toward her and snatched both her shoulders, shaking her vigorously.

"I asked you a damned question," he roared, his breath thick with the smell of alcohol.

"It's none of your damned business," she retorted.

She shook her right shoulder out of his incompetent hands and took on her casting stance. Anasteria shut her eyes tight and intoned the dark spell that torments the mind of the recipient. The Mind Flay was a defensive spell that damaged and numbed the limbs of the enemy, preventing them from any sudden movements. She then ran to the balcony and climbed the balustrade. With eyes shut tightly, she uttered one of the most important word of power for priests. Golden light bathed her in a protective bubble that always reminded her of the way a womb must be. Anasteria then jumped, he robes billowing out as she plunged into the darkness below.

The shield absorbed most of the damage, but she was still slightly bruised by the fall. By this time, the spell on Duncan had worn off. She was running toward the moat, hoping that there were no fairy-tale basilisks dwelling in its depths. There was shouting coming from her room, but she had no time to listen. She hitched up her robes and waded into the water, willing her thin arms and legs to push her to the shore as fast as they could. She slogged along and did her best to ignore her thick robe trying to pull her downward. There was a splash behind her and she turned to see her rogue captor agilely swimming after her. Rogues had the skill to sustain a jump from the balcony without being badly injured. _Duncan must've sent him first. There will probably be more after me soon. _ She could hear him splashing behind her, his stronger arms and legs rhythmically gliding through the water. _I have to do something, or he'll just drag me back there._ Turning fully to face him, she murmured word of power taught to her in by the undead. Unlike the healing words of power taught to all priests, this one caused pain. She watched her captor writhe in agony, a satisfied smile crossing her face.

Rowan's body felt like it was on fire. He was jolting uncontrollably as the white-hot pain ravaged his limbs. It subsided after a few moments, the burn dulling to still noticeable pang. His feet reached the ground and he staggered after the Blood Elf. She was running toward the forest, hoping to lose him among the trees in the dark. He roared in frustration and followed her into it, readying a throwing knife in his hand. "You know I won't let you escape," he thundered. She was only feet ahead of him and he was gaining on her. He had a clear shot at her when he heard a fierce growl. To his left, a bear was lumbering toward the Blood Elf. _Weakest prey first, Rowan thought. _He considered letting her die at that point, but then realized that a bear of that size would want meal, not a snack. His poisoned throwing knife pierced the animal's thick hide and it raised itself in the air, bellowing in pain. He whipped out both daggers and slashed at the beast. Rowan managed to duck most of its attempts to swat at him, but one caught him in the face full on. He fell backward and the beast lunged toward him. With one fluid motion, the rogue jammed his dagger into the throat of the bear. It fell forward, a gurgling roar straining out of its collapsed trachea. The Night Elf laid there heaving for a moment before pulling himself to his feet.

Rowan wasn't the only one injured by the bear. Anasteria's arm bled profusely from the deep gash on her arm. She saw a dip in the ground and decided she'd be best off hiding in the shrubs. When she reached the bottom, however, she found a better place. There was a cave not too far off, it'd at least be warm and dark. She gathered her last stores of strength and hobbled over to it. In amazement, Anasteria realized that she was standing in a tunnel—not a cave. "I.. here is a good..place," she stammered, talking to no one in particular. She took a step backward and fell against the wall, letting herself slowly sink to a sitting position. "..just a quick break," she whispered, fading from consciousness as blood swelled from the wound. She was brought out of it momentarily when a twig snapped outside the entrance. Anasteria made no effort to rise to her feet. _I have no fight in me. No mana, no weapon even. _She closed her eyes and waited for the rogue to bring the dagger across her throat. He would probably spare her no mercy after she left him alone to fight that bear.

Cradling his cheek with one hand, the Night Elf followed the trail of trampled undergrowth. He knelt down by a branch and examined the leaves, as Vorena had taught him. A smear of dark red blood ran across them and he felt a surge of confidence. He continued on, examining the leaves further along the path when his feet hit an unexpected drop, causing him to roll down the hill like an acorn falling from a tree. Although no one was there to see it, Rowan flushed red with embarrassment. _There's a reason why I'm not a hunter._ He looked around for but a moment before realizing where the girl must've gone. "No," he growled. It was that cursed tunnel from Ashenvale to the Stonetalon Mountains. She was probably already halfway through it by now. _That tunnel should have been collapsed decades ago. _He broke into a run and came to the entrance, but stopped in surprise when he reached it.

The elf-girl's body lay prone on the stone floor, a dark red stain growing on the embroidered sleeve of her robe. Her eyes were a dim glow of jade, not the emerald blaze he had seen at the inn. He knelt by her body cautiously, still wielding both daggers. She still laid there, seeming oblivious of the poison-soaked weapons.

"Will you make it quick?" she asked weakly.

"I was told to just bring you back," he replied uneasily. In his torrent of curses, Sir Duncan hadn't really been specific.

"So, that's what you're going to do.. bring me back," she said airily. She looked like she was going to slip back into unconsciousness. He lifted her arm gingerly to see if he could stop the flow, but she pushed his hand back. He instinctively raised his dagger again. Her hand rose shakily and she rested it on his wrist, drawing the vicious blade to her slender neck.

"Kill me," she whispered. "I would rather die than be shamed by that monster." A pang of some raw nameless emotion clenched his stomach. Half of him wanted to curse her for being so cowardly, but the other half told him something else. That half was the primal area of his brain and it registered the words, "elf, female, hurt." Both sides of his brain warred against each other; a history of hatred between the Night and Blood elves lashed out against the innate instinct to protect a woman.

"I won't do it," he rasped.

"I'll find a way to do it myself when you take me back. You heard through the door when the human held me over the balcony. Maybe I'll accidentally trip and go tumbling down.." She trailed off and smiled faintly.

"Then I won't bring you back. I'll let you—" he stopped. A shadow at the corner of his vision passed by.

Vorena's massive cat, Cava, sprang onto the Blood Elf and pinned her unresisting shoulders down. The huntress strode in and smiled pleasantly at Rowan. He stood up abruptly and flushed, hoping he hadn't raised her suspicions. She ordered Cava off of the girl and gave her comrade a playful slap on the chest.

"What would you do without me lookin' out for you, Ro?" She flashed her white teeth at him.

"I didn't know Sir Duncan sent you," he stammered, steering the subject off of him.

"I was outside when I heard him pitching a fit and I saw this thing here making a run for it," she nudged the semi-conscious elf with her foot. She paused, "Not sure how she got outta the cage. No one else was missing."

"She wasn't caged," Rowan replied slowly. "Sir Duncan.. she's his.." he fumbled for the words.

"Whore?" Vorena replied, that smart smile returning. "If it's not her, he'll bother the rest of us women. I don't mind it one bit."

Again, Rowan shifted the focus of the conversation. "I can't move her. She's injured badly and I don't have any bandages," he reached down for her arm again to show the huntress.

Vorena scoffed, saying that she had seen brambles do worse. There was no way he would be able to let the Blood Elf go. _Not with her around, at least.._ he thought. He trudged back to Astranaar holding the petite elf-girl in his arms. He didn't even know her name, but the huntress had already assigned her one.

"Here comes Belora, mistress of the Sun! Returning on her valiant peacock (she pointed to Rowan at this point) mount to claim her throne after years of arcane addiction and.." she continued her parody as they crossed the threshold of the inn, the young patrons raising their tankards in mock cheer to the unconscious girl. _Belora.. she doesn't even look like a Belora._ "Belora" was a generic off-hand name given to all Sin'dorei females by outsiders, just as humans would use "Sally."

Sir Duncan sat at a crowded table toward the back, his arm nestled around the waist of one of the local elven girls. Rowan's jaw tightened at the sight of his hand lingering around her thigh and he did his best to remain composed. He knew that Night Elves chose to marry interracially with the humans and Draenei (rare did one of his kind go after gnomes or dwarves), but seeing Sir Lecherous-Woman-Raping-Duncan wantonly rubbing her knee made his blood boil. He even hated the sound of the human's name. The sound of it reminded him of the gasps and utterance made by people who were being forcibly drowned. _I'd like to forcibly drown him._ Vorena, seeing her comrade lost in his thoughts, eagerly addressed the knight herself.

"Sir Duncan. We have re-captured your prisoner. Where shall we take her?"

The knight looked up and squinted, as if not recognizing who the two were. Understanding dawned on his face and he leaned back in his chair, "I won't need her tonight," he grinned dirtily at the elf sitting on his knee. "Have her sleep in the stables." He waved them both away.


	7. Murder

_AN: I really shouldn't edit my chapter at 3 AM anymore. Fixed some typos. If you catch any more, please leave me a note. :) Thank you!_

**Murder**

* * *

Tasius slammed his helmet to the ground in rage as soon as the warchief left. His heart was pounding in his ears and he struggled to maintain calm while the Orc briefed his men on the attack at Splintertree. He ran his hands through his flame-colored hair, wanting to rip it out and let the chunks fly off in the wind. His comrade, Brinna, put a comforting gauntlet on his shoulder.

"Tas, they'll send a regiment up there to re-fortify it," she paused, then smiled brightly, "You shouldn't upset yourself this much." Her hand lingered for a moment.

"You don't get it, Brinna. No one will be able to reclaim it for another two days since the nearest regiment is in The Crossroads. Everyone who is there has either been long killed or captured." He sighed heavily, his body slumping in exhaustion.

Brinna kept talking, her voice elevating in annoyingly cheerful inflections. Tasius stared at her mouth, wishing he could sew it shut. Brinna was never cheerful for the sake of being optimistic or comforting to her comrades. She did it to worm her way into their graces so that she could control them later on. _Just like my mother,_ he thought. His mind returned to Anasteria and he sighed heavily. What pained him most was that he would not be able to search for the girl himself. The Warsong Outriders couldn't spare any men at that vulnerable point, as the warchief said. He sat down and pulled out a sheet of parchment. He had to let his mother know what happened, though he was sure she must have found out already. Tasius never knew the clear reason as to why she took an interest in Anasteria. When he asked, she'd simply say, "She reminds me of myself when I was that age." His hand quivered as he held the quill over the blank sheet. _She's nothing like you, mother._

* * *

Teacup darted from her mistress' lap and went to go find a quieter place to sleep. Elluine was furious, distraught, and even terrified.

"I had only meant for the girl to tip the balance," she said frantically to herself. "I never imagined things would go wrong. I just wanted her to excel, and then I could finish my research."

Her unfinished thesis lay scattered across the table, each page filled with scratched-out lines and notes written in the margin. She was so close to finishing her research on shadow magic, or as the title of the thesis read, "The Integral Relationship between Shadow and Light Magic in Hybrid Priests." Anasteria was going to be her first example of how such a combination could prove efficient and deadly on a battleground. It would hardly be a good idea to mention her, now that she was captured by the enemy on her first mission. Priestess Elluine tore the pages apart viciously and threw the scraps into the fire. She wanted to curse every god at the top of her lungs. It was all ruined. Months of research had now come to nothing. Her chance at High Priestess would have to wait another five years.

* * *

Two days alone in the stables gave Anasteria enough confidence that Duncan had forgotten about her. The stables weren't too bad either. They were warm and she didn't mind the smell of the animals. The chains on her wrists and ankles gave her no hope of escape, so she sat there and mulled over her situation. Without Duncan there to terrify her, she felt surprisingly relaxed. It seemed as though everyone forgot her, except her Night Elf captor. He brought her scraps from the kitchen every evening. That night, he lingered by the doorway as if he had something to ask her. She paused, a bread roll suspended before her lips.

"What is it?" she asked slowly.

"I never asked you your name," he answered.

"Anasteria Duskblaze, " she gave a half-chuckle, "A very Thalassian name, I know."

"Rowan Starfire.. a very Darnassian name."

She realized that he was making a joke and smiled. He had a very classic face that all Night Elves had. The large nose, thick hair, and muscular build. Yet, she could pick him out in a second if she had to. His hair was a rare shade of green that reminded her of sea grass. It strangely complimented his fair lilac skin. He turned to leave and she watched him thoughtfully before returning to her food.

* * *

Fate would not give up so easily though. Sir Duncan stumbled into the stables later that night, noisily making his way toward as he stumbled over everything in his path. _He's drunk_, she realized. She hoped that her unwashed hair and body would keep him away. _Maybe I should just let him do it and get it over with. That way, the next time and the time after that won't hurt._ She quickly dismissed that last thought. Apathy would only make her easier to subjugate.

He was more rough this time, his hands wasting no time in tearing her robe off along with her underclothes. His bearded mouth was all over body, kissing it hungrily. She shrieked, and dug her nails into his face, but he swatted them off and cuffed her hard. Duncan reached into his pocket for the key and unchained her ankles. He parted her legs and laid between them, his hands fumbling for at his belt. Then he spat on his fingers and rubbed them between her legs to moisten the entrance. Anasteria would recall that moment later on with disgust. The knight leaned over her again, his black eyes boring mercilessly into hers. He raised his hips, ready to enter her but something struck his head with such force that a sickening _crunch_ could be heard. A large gloved hand enclosed around the bloody mess of Duncan's hair and dragged him away. He was dead.

Anasteria looked about wildly, wondering where her savior had gone. She pulled her now torn robe back over her body and the man returned, his eyes glowing a fierce shade of amber. It was Rowan, the man who captured her.. twice, and now rescued her once.

"Come," he said breathing heavily, hands trembling as he unchained her. "We have to leave now."

He saddled a horse, and helped Anasteria up before climbing on behind her. The horse looked like it belonged to a Paladin—a Paladin who's going to be quite upset when he finds his ride gone in the morning. With the reins in one hand, Rowan kicked his boot and the beast bolted off into the night. When they were a safe distance away, she finally asked him why he came for her, why he killed his superior.

"That man was never fit to lead, much less live. He was a drunkard and a waste of space. I had to end him," Rowan seethed. He calmed, slightly ashamed at his outburst, "How do you fare? I..didn't know how far he had gotten. I heard the animals stir..and came to check.." He trailed off, hoping that his voice didn't betray the lie he was trying to pass off.

"I'm fine.. alive. I'm not sure you're telling me the truth though.."

He reined in the horse, ready to lay out his argument, "After what I—"

She cut him off right then, "I don't entirely believe that you killed him because he was a drunk nuisance who wasn't fit to live. If it were that simple, you'd not have saved me. You'd have left me to take them blame for it."

He didn't answer her. There was a long silence as they rode on. Finally, he answered her, picking his words carefully, "We're not barbarians, Anasteria. We don't hunt down women to use as our mistresses. I had to put an end to it before it went any further. 'Sir' Duncan has an influence on my comrades. He encourages drunkenness and slovenly behavior. When he had you in his room, I felt like I was letting him mold me into his own image. I've been around long enough to know that a fish rots from the head downward. I had to remove the head to save the body." She nodded in response, biting back a facetious comment about how fish need their heads to live.

* * *

Rowan hoped Anasteria was content with the story he told earlier. He would explain it to her in time, but right now they just had to get away. He turned the horse off the road and headed for a small clearing to set up shelter. The girl had fallen asleep against him and he gently woke her when they had to dismount. She startled at the sight of him, but her face calmed as the night's earlier events flooded to recollection. He helped her down, amused at how her dainty hand was engulfed by his..

"Can we light a fire?" she asked wearily. "It's cold and I can hardly see past my own hand."

"No, it's too dangerous right now. I'll have to set up the tent by moonlight."

His eyes were more sensitive to the darkness than hers, so he performed the task as well as an escaped soldier harboring a blood-traitor prisoner could. When everything was set up and unrolled, she laid down and fell asleep instantly. Rowan sat in the cool grass for a bit, scarcely able to believe that he just escaped from his career, his friends, even his family. What frightened him the most was that he risked everything for someone who may betray him later on. He decided on his plan to escape when Duncan sent her to the stables. Gathering supplies, food, and clothing, he left his rucksack behind a stack of hay for quick access. Earlier that night, Duncan had been exceedingly intoxicated. Being the only woman in the room that the knight hadn't slept with yet, Vorena was the focus of Sir Duncan's ineffectual caresses. "Don't you have a little scum-elf to fuck?" she sneered. He started to object, but then realized that he had indeed let the captive girl slip his mind. He left the inn and Rowan followed shortly. The wretch stumbled his way to the stables and disappeared into the dark. Wanting to have the element of surprise on his side, Rowan slipped into stealth and followed him from a distance. When he heard Anasteria scream, he ditched that plan and ran into the building. Eyes blazing, he raised his club and brought it down with full force. No matter what the girl felt for him, he would never regret ending Duncan's miserable excuse for a life.

Rowan awoke the next morning with a painful ache in his back. His eyes slowly focused on his surroundings, and he bolted upright when he realized that Anasteria was nowhere to be seen. He crouched down and searched the flattened grass for her small footprints, as Vorena taught him. As he was doing so, he heard a stifled giggle and a pair of red embroidered shoes came into his field of vision. He looked up to see Anasteria, face flushed pink from restrained laughter. He groaned and again berated himself for even attempting to do the job of a hunter.

"I didn't run away, I just went to fetch breakfast. Do you think these are edible?" Her hands held the hem of her long robe upward in front of her, using it as a makeshift hammock for the little red-orange berries.

Rowan recognized the berries instantly as, yes, rowan berries. He gave a half smile at the appropriateness of the situation and replied, "Yes, they're edible. That is, if you don't mind stomach cramps." Her smile instantly sank into a pout.

Amused at her quick change of mood, he added, "There is a way to make them harmless. Let me fetch the cooking pot so we can boil them."


	8. Secrets Best Left Unkept

_A/N: A huge thank you to Flamewind for pointing out what I can only classify as a "huge ginormous plot hole." I've fixed a few paragraphs below so, rest assured, our Anasteria is not a follower of Kil'jaeden who was granted the ability to consume demon blood. I don't think she'd look all that great with horns popping out of her head anyway. Thanks for the input!  
_

**Secrets Best Left Unkept**

* * *

"So, where are we going?" Anasteria finally asked after they finished eating. The air cleared up after a small drizzle, leaving a light fragrant breeze to rustle the leaves. No matter what time of day it was in Ashenvale, all light from the sky was tinted purple by the canopy of leaves. Rowan's lilac skin and dark hair absorbed the color well but Anasteria's blonde hair and fair complexion reflected it back, making her as inconspicuous as the beacon of a lighthouse.

"I'll take you to the border of The Barrens. You can make your way to Warsong Outriders camp from there," he told her, harboring a secret wish that she'd decline to return to the Horde lands.

He bundled their supplies onto the horse, wrapping its reins around one hand. They had to content themselves with slogging through the mud since using the roads was be too risky. Both elves walked in silence for a long while, until Rowan suggested they stop to rest. Their resting place was a verdant spring with cold water foaming white as it rushed over mossy rocks. He filled his wineskin and offered it to the girl. She had been playful earlier that morning, but her manner seemed more subdued. She quietly took the jug.

Anasteria knew that Rowan sensed her unease. They had left early that morning, hoping to put an even greater distance between Astranaar and themselves. She wanted to tell him that it was important for her to meditate beforehand, but knew they couldn't spare the time. Meditation was a vital practice for all Blood Elves in order to control the constant pangs of magic addiction. It had been two days since she was able to find the time and she could feel every nerve in her body rioting against her. True, she couldn't die from her addiction, but it had been known to permanently drive people over the edge. She slumped against the roots of a large tree, and tried to focus her mind on controlling the voracious hunger she felt.

"Anasteria.." Rowan said slowly, unsure of what to say next.

"I need.. just a small moment to rest," she replied, her eyes closing.

He gave in and sat across from her, pretending to be interested in two birds chasing each other across branches. Shifting uncomfortably, he decided to come out and ask.

"What's the matter? Are you ill?"

"I'm fine, Rowan. Really..please don't worry." She struggled to stay calm, knowing that her mounting feeling of annoyance toward him was a side effect.

In response, the Night Elf shrugged and stood up. "It's time to go then."

* * *

Anasteria's body raged against her, every ounce of it threatening mutiny. At the same time, it reminded her of how alive she felt after feeding on arcane energies. The surge of confidence and wave of contentment that warmed over her afterward. She tightened her grip on the bridle, struggling to keep one foot ahead of the other. Her concentration was interrupted when the horse came to an abrupt stop.

"Now is your last chance to tell me."

Rowan blocked her path, his golden gaze locked on her. She made to reply, but couldn't command the muscles in her jaw to relax enough for her mouth to open. All she could manage was a helpless whimper in response. He stepped forward and put a tentative hand on her shoulder, his eyes no longer accusatory. Slowly, he helped her to the floor and propped her against the soggy trunk of a tree. His hands were cool on her flesh as he felt her forehead, searching for a fever that wasn't there. Mustering up the last of her control, she managed to whisper.

"It's my addiction."

When he heard those words, Rowan unintentionally shrunk back in revulsion. The Sin'dorei addiction to the arcane was the biggest wedge that drove the two races apart. He had observed the lives of Silvermoon politicians through a scrying crystal during his days as a spy, but never witnessed them in the throes of withdrawal. He studied her face, pale and drawn with lips that were a lighter shade of pink than usual.

Smothering that feeling of disgust, he asked her, "Should I fetch you some spring water?"

Her head shook almost imperceptibly and she answered, "Won't be enough. A demon.. find one, bring it back half-alive."

Her eyes closed, her body limp with exhaustion. Rowan rose and untied his scabbard from the saddle. The only demons he knew of in the area were the devious Succubi. Succubi were hauntingly beautiful demonesses preferred to lure their prey in before torturing and killing them. He stealthed himself and headed to the foothills.

Anasteria felt the presence of the Succubus before she even needed to open her eyes. The demoness was bursting with magical essence and her urge to feed was nearly unbearable. She raised both hands before her and siphoned the demon's mana completely. With a single dark word, she ended its life and tossed the small corpse into a bush. Rowan's distaste was palpable and he turned away from her. She didn't care though. Her body was flooded with that familiar feeling that an outsider would never be able to understand. Every weakness or doubt that she ever harbored evaporated and left her feeling happy and free.

"You could have told me," he said stiffly.

"Could I?" she asked incredulously. The magic was bursting through her veins, flooding her with a spectrum of unbounded emotions. It enraged her that Rowan would be so averse to something that was so vital to her. "I know it disgusts your people more than anything to see how powerfully we wield magic. Everything, even physical differences between us are the result of the arcane. The glow of my eyes, the pallor of my skin. Your people can't stand to see it. It's who we are though. We don't seek to deny ourselves of the best that life has to offer. We don't _humble_ ourselves to trees and moons like your kind do."

Rowan hadn't wanted to go down this road, but the words came unbidden. "We're cowards because we refuse to let magic corrupt us? You make my people seem pathetic for honoring nature, but at least it's not our slave master. I'm sure you've had years of brainwashing out about how brave your people were to give their lives in the name of the Sunwell. They only died because they couldn't imagine a life without it. They couldn't bear to live knowing that they wouldn't be able to have their fix. Your people destroyed themselves. Your enemies hardly had to lift a finger."

Anasteria's eyes were like smoldering emeralds now, threatening to set him ablaze at any moment. Her body shook with rage and she answered him by ejecting a bubbling gob of spit right below his eye. In Night Elf culture, spitting on a fellow elf was considered one of the greatest insults that could ever be given, it even outranked vulgar comments toward one's mother. He seized her by the shoulders, unaware of how tight his grip felt for her fragile bones.

"If you ever do that to me again. I will drag you back to Astranaar and leave you at their mercy," he growled.

She winced in pain, and tried to squirm out of his hands. "You're hurting me."

He let go and she backed away, instinctively rubbing a shoulder. "What has gotten into you?" she finally asked. Rowan felt a surge of embarrassment for what happened, but stayed obstinate.

"Let's go. We have an hour before nightfall."


	9. Two Elves, One Flask

_A/N: I've re-written this chapter several times and I'm actually a bit pleased at how it turned out (so let me down easily if you have massive criticism! P) After this chapter, I'm going to shift the focus back on Anasteria's thoughts since I think I've sufficiently given enough time for everyone to get to know Rowan.Hope you enjoy this, and if so, please leave a comment! This is my first fanfiction and pretty much any advice will be helpful.  
_

**Two Elves, One Flask**

* * *

Nightfall did come an hour later, bringing a torrent of wind and rain in tow. The two elves set up camp quickly, but no amount of haste could save them from being drenched to the bone. It was time for dinner but lighting a fire was out of the question, as was hunting. They had to resort to Rowan's meager rations, or as the label read, "Gourmet Portable Meal." He handed the "Smoked Boar with Stewed Vegetables" packet to Anasteria and she tore it open as excitedly as though it were a gift from Greatfather Winter himself. Chewing on the leathery strip of meat, she pointed to a pair of saddlebags that sat in a dripping heap with the other supplies.

"What's inside of it?" she asked Rowan.

He looked over at them and realized that he had never checked. They left Astranaar in such a hurry that it had never occurred to him that the previous owner might have stowed something useful within. Rowan unbuckled the flap and felt around in the leather bag. There were a few heavy coins and, ah, a flask. He unscrewed the tarnished cap and sampled the liquid. It burned down his throat on its way down, forcing a small cough to escape him.

"Definitely a flask of Cuergo's Gold," he stated. Humans and Dwarves loved the drink and barrels of it sat aging under the inns of Stormwind and Ironforge. He offered her the bottle, awaiting her response to the strong liquor.

"By the Sun!" she exclaimed through a fit of coughing. "It's like bottled fire."

They passed the flask between each other as the rain beat noisily on the canvas tent. The tension from earlier that evening melted away and they warmed to each other's company after a few swigs.

"It was so funny.." Anasteria was saying, struggling to contain her laughter, "There you were..on hands and knees.. tracking my footprints. And I was right in front of you!"

"Laugh all you want, I'll get my revenge," Rowan replied, a grin spreading across his face. She looked so beautiful in the dim light of the lantern. The rain had darkened her hair to a seductive shade of brown that reminded him of cinnamon.

She leaned toward him, raising her hand to slap him playfully on the shoulder but he caught it mid-air.

"Are all Sin'dorei females this abusive when they drink?" he laughed, his hand still clasping hers.

"Are you calling me abusive?! I'll show you.." Without giving him a chance to answer, she leaned forward and kissed him, flicking her tongue across his lips before she drew back.

The kiss ended much too soon for his liking and he pulled her in for another. Her lips parted and he slipped his tongue inside, exploring her mouth. She broke away and buried her face into his neck, nibbling her way up to the point of his ear. A slight smile played across her lips as she felt him shiver with pleasure. The ears were one of the most sensitive parts of an elf and she tilted her head slightly, inviting him to do the same to her. He ran a fingertip along the elegant curve of her ear before brushing his lips against it. Her body ached for more than just foreplay and she hooked her arms under his shoulders, pulling him on top of her. With his hips pressed to hers, he pulled the collar of her robe aside and began kissing her bare shoulder. A small cry of pain escaped her lips and he looked up at her questioningly.

"It's nothing," she breathed. "Keep going."

He frowned, then pulled her to a sitting position. It was clear, even in the low light of the lantern, what was causing her pain. Light blue bruises clouded the soft pale skin. They looked recent and Rowan started to ask where they had come from, but the words died in his throat. They had been arguing that afternoon. He had grabbed her.

"I hurt you," he whispered. It mattered nothing to him whether or not it was accidental. He'd forgotten his own strength and harmed her..all because she offended his people. Night Elves had a strong reputation for being calm and stalwart, and there he was showing her that his kind were nothing more than self-proud bullies.

"It isn't your fault, Rowan. I knew I was winding you up, but I kept going. I get that way after I've.." she trailed off, then re-formed her sentence. "I'm sorry for saying that to you."

He gave a deep sigh, "I'm not really offended by what you said, now that I think of it. If I went home to Darnassus, I'd be arrested. I'm not sure that I'm a Night Elf anymore. I don't know what else to call myself though."

"You'll always be an elf," she said, adding, "I don't think anything, short of cosmetic surgery on your ears, could change that."

He chuckled at the thought of himself with round ears.

"It'll be nice for you.. when you get to go home," he said delicately. She had told him nothing about her life and he wasn't sure if it was a touchy subject for her.

She sat there a moment, idly twirling a lock of hair around her fingertips. Should she tell him about her parents? About how she chose to serve in a warzone instead of returning to her family? Or, her heart skipped a beat, about Tasius? The thoughts rushed to her mind, dizzying her already impaired senses.

"Anasteria," he prompted.

"No," she said curtly. His eyebrow raised and she continued on, "Unless 'happy' can be construed to mean forced marriage with a suitor handpicked by your parents."

Rowan frowned at the thought of such an arrangement. Given the long lifespan of his people, marriage was a rare occasion that was never forced or rushed. Blood Elves had a greatly reduced life expectancy, and, with the war decimating much of their population, must take marriage and childbearing very seriously. He wasn't sure how to respond.

"So you don't want to be married?" he asked tentatively.

"It's not really that. My choice was taken away from me. The choice over how to live my life was decided for me by my father, and if I went against him.. well, I did go against him. He's effectively disowned me."

_Disowned?_

She saw the puzzled look on his face and smirked, "Yes, Rowan. You're running with a full-blood rebel."

"I don't think I understand. Your father will refuse to recognize you as his daughter?" His mind reeled at such a cruel punishment. _To deny one's own child. To pretend like they've never existed?_

"That's exactly right. I have two younger sisters and an older brother. They can afford to cast away a bad seed," she replied, masking her sorrow with strained confidence.

"What will you do?"

"I don't know. I can't very well go back to Silvermoon. Probably not Undercity either." She paused as an inkling of a thought came to mind. It would be possible that she and Rowan could live as outlaws for the rest of their lives. Not a completely appealing idea, but they would always be free.

He studied her face, hoping that he succeeded in steering her toward the thought of them together without actually mentioning it. Rowan had gone over it in his mind, wondering how to bring it up. When he realized that she might actually miss her family and homeland, he felt a pang of sadness. Now that she told him about her situation, he brightened.

"I suppose, if my company doesn't bother you, I could go with you," she finally said.

"We would always be living on the fringes, you know. It would be dangerous. I don't know what we would do about money either," he said uneasily, frustrated at not taking those thoughts into consideration beforehand. He was supposed to be convincing her.

Another smirk crossed her lips. "Are you really telling me that you wouldn't know what to do about money, Mr. Stealth-sap-and-pickpocket?"

She was right. Though he never used his pickpocketing skills for common theft, he did know how to do it. He was already a murderer, what harm could petty thieving do?

He acquiesced, "Yes, I suppose I could. More importantly though, we'd constantly be moving around contested areas. We couldn't settle down anywhere for long. And from my experience, women don't enjoy nomadic lifestyles."

The Blood Elf's eyebrow arched inquiringly at mention of his "experience." Rowan stayed silent though, not wanting to take the bait. He had a few tepid relationships with women who turned out to be crazy, vain, possessive, or all three. His last so-called girlfriend, Cerie, set her pet crocolisk on him after they fought about " setting boundaries." The boundary in question was the one she had set up to forbid him from talking to any female that wasn't named Cerie (mothers exempt).

Anasteria watched Rowan's face, amused at his visible discomfort as he visited some undesirable memory. She straightened and took his hand into hers.

"Being just _dorei _without a 'quel,' 'sin,' or 'kal" attached to the front of the word seems very freeing. But it also seems kind of scary. Let me think about it tonight. I'll let you know tomorrow if we need to keep heading toward the Barrens or not."

He kissed her softly in reply and they spent the remaining hours of darkness with their arms wrapped tightly around the other.

* * *

Dorei: elves (literally "children")


	10. Honoring his Oath

_A/N: I just keep crankin' these out, don't I? Thank you for all the reviews so far, I'm glad people are happy with the frequent updates (as opposed to annoyed..hahah). This chapter shifts back to Ana's redheaded pally, Tasius.To avoid confusion, I have to point out that this chapter takes on the same day as the chapter before it.  
_

**Honoring his Oath**

* * *

The Alliance is always quick to disparage the name of the Blood Knights without accepting that the two factions of paladins exist under similar principles. A Blood Knight would never harm the innocent, nor would he sneak up behind his enemy. There were no paladin moves with names like "cheap shot" or "backstab." Paladins were the embodiment of honor, virtue, strength, and compassion. Tasius felt that, at his best, he could be considered strong. He would never prove his honor, virtue, or compassion at Warsong Gulch. Not after what he allowed to happen.

Anasteria was the one person he knew who was truly innocent, and he failed her. He yielded to his mother like a lamb to its slaughterer, allowing the blade to be drawn across its neck. Allowing its blood to be spilled, no questions asked. He became emboldened and wrote a fiery letter to her, demanding that she disclose the truth of the part she played. Elluine had no problem explaining it fully to her son, down to the most minute details. She had expected sympathy from Tasius and, even more troubling, respect. Respect for the complexity of her planning and the cunning with which she executed it.

He threw her letter into the brazier and stood, his tired muscles protesting against the sudden movement. There was no honor to be had at Warsong Gulch while Anasteria was missing or, he hesitated, _dead. _Tasius quietly left the barracks and saddled his mount, strapping the heavy rucksack over his broad shoulders. The Warsong Outriders weren't his overlords. The only master who could brand him a deserter was the Light. He spurred his horse and the beast sprang into a gallop. He would have to ride hard to reach the border by morning.

* * *

The drab landscape of The Barrens faded behind Tasius as he entered the cool violet-tinted forests of Ashenvale. Although most elves were comforted by the sight of trees, the eerie forest put the young paladin on edge. He slowed his horse to a canter and drew down the visor of his helm. If he were seen by the Alliance, it would take them longer to realize that he was not one of them if his face were covered.

Splintertree's spiked palisades jutted into the morning fog as he drew near. Tasius half-expected the Night Elves to burn the outpost down, but then realized that the moist climate of Ashenvale would have made setting fire to it difficult. He also expected the place to be empty, but an early regiment of Orcs had arrived. Frowning, he dismounted and approached one of the green mammoths.

"Have the bodies been counted?" he asked, heart pounding in his throat.

"I don't know you, elf," replied the Orc gruffly.

Tasius blanched with fury. He wanted to take the stupid beast by its rotting tusks and drag it to the mud. It was obvious from his armor that he was a Blood Knight, but the Orc looked at him with indifference.

Swallowing his anger, he stiffly replied, "I don't know you either, orc, but I'm here on business from Mor'shan Camp. Now. Tell me."

The Orc scrunched its face in defiance, "A camp of strong Orc warriors, and they send a weak elf?" Its red eyes narrowed, "Bodies were counted. Fifteen dead. All burned now." He gestured to a smoldering pyre in the distance.

"An elf. Do you remember a female elf among them?"

Its lips tugged downward into a scowl, "No elf. Probably ran. All you elves run."

Tasius had to restrain his hand from reaching for the hilt of his sword. If he lost his temper, he would never get to Anasteria in time. He turned abruptly and headed toward what he assumed were the camp's barracks.

A cold pang of shock jolted through his body when he entered the building. Furniture was smashed, pallets were strewn about. He noticed a dark stain of blood caked to the straw of one of the mattress.

"Some of them were killed in their own beds," he whispered.

Such cowardice could be expected of the Night Elves. They most likely sent their rogue assassins to slit the throats of the sleeping scouts. His boots echoed on the floor as he continued forward, stopping at an alcove carved into the stone wall..a rudimentary bed. A linen blanket sat wrinkled at the foot of the stone ledge, its occupant having sprung from it quickly. Leaning over for a closer look, he saw a slight twinkle of orange beside the pillow.

It was her necklace.

He lifted the delicate thing up and held it to the light. It was a wonder that none of the invading scum-elves had pocketed it. Tasius rose and closed his fist over it, letting the sharp petals of the jeweled flowers dig into his palm. _I'm going to clasp it around her neck once more_, he promised himself. It was a relief that she wasn't among the dead, but Tasius knew that it wasn't an indication that she was alive either. His mind thrust an unbidden image of her lifeless body.. a mat of bloodied hair flung carelessly over eyes that no longer saw.

If she was alive, he would protect her with everything he had. He would swear to never leave her or let harm come to her while he lived. Were he to come upon her body instead, he would bear it on his mount, walking the horse to The Barrens if he had to. Either way, he would be the strong brave Paladin she thought him to be, even if it was only in death that he could live up to her praise.

He watered the horse and set off for Astranaar. If her life was indeed spared, she would probably be held captive there.

* * *

There really was no feasible way for Tasius to ride straight into Astranaar and demand her release. He had no plan to free her and hours in the saddle hadn't yielded any ideas. _I'll just have to wait and see._ His mount, whom he named Pollux on a whim, was growing sluggish and it was time to make camp. The forest had darkened sooner than he'd expected, the canopy of trees shielding the dimming light. As he pulled on the reins to lead his beast toward a clearing, a small dark heap in the road caught his eye.

He almost ignored it, but the shape let out a wail of agony. Its feline eyes were wide with pain as it lay prostrate in the middle of the road. _Can't just leave the poor thing there,_ he thought. Giving Pollux a pat, he dismounted and strode over to the injured animal. He got to one knee and took its paw into his hand. It didn't seem hurt..

The cat sprang up and pinned the paladin to the ground, its jaws snapping at him wildly. An arrow hummed through the air, grazing his forehead as it zoomed past his face. He raised his palms and uttered a spell to stun the animal. Pushing it off him, he unsheathed his sword and looked about frantically. The owner of the stray arrow glared back at him from a bush, silver eyes blazing with hatred.

"_Bandu thoribas_!" the Night Elf shrieked.

"_Thalassae_?" Tasius asked mockingly.

The woman shot back a torrent of curses, some of which Tasius had understood from his battles with the Sentinels. With arms raised, he cast a shield over himself and sped toward her, sword raised over his head. She dodged his first swing, connecting her foot with his ankle. Stumbling backward, he grabbed her and brought her slight form down along with him. The two elves wrestled, each one only momentarily gaining advantage over the other. _She's a strong one, it's a wonder she's a not warrior instead of a hunter._

A curse erupted from Tasius' mouth as the female's pet was released from its stun spell. The cat sprang onto him and he had to overpower them both if he wanted to live. Intoning words of Light, he set the ground ablaze, causing the cat to flee to the forest in pain. Now, he had to deal with this hunter. He gritted his teeth and executed a spell of Judgment on her. The glowing hammer came down upon her with such force, that she toppled backward. Tasius planted a boot on her shoulder and held her down, putting the point of the sword to her neck.

"Sin.. sin'dorei.." she panted, pointing toward the woods.

"I'm not falling for it," he snapped, eyes still on her.

"Ah.. mm.. sin'dorei.. _t'essalah..t'essalah_!" she said frantically.

The Blood Elf paused, sword still against her neck. _T'essalah._ The word had a familiar ring to it. It was definitely not a Thalassian word. _It sounded like..Taes'lah. Woman. _Despite thousands of years of separation between the two races, some of the most basic words had changed little. Tasius leaned closer to the woman.

"Where is the tae'slah?" He pushed the point of the sword into her neck slightly, a drop of blood clung to the blade.

A flow of unintelligible Darnassian poured from the Night Elf and Tasius had to reach forward and slap her to make it stop. He motioned for her to stand up and turn around. Sword to her back, he reached into his saddlebag pulled out a rope to bind her. When she was secure, he yanked her along as he went into the woods to where the cat fled. The animal, now truly in pain, laid there whimpering. He brought his sword down on it, making the hunter watch as he did so. She cried out in pain and horror her companion laid there, butchered.

"You gave me no choice. You'd have called it back to attack me if I let it live," he said, knowing she didn't have to understand his words to know why he did it.

He grabbed her shoulder and forced her upright, spinning her around to face the direction she pointed to.

"Sin'dorei tae'slah.." he growled into ear, "take me to her."

* * *

_Another A/N: A quick note. FF has bizarre ways of formatting, so I can't add asterisks or superscript (even in HTML mode) to some of the dialogue spoken between Tasius and Vorena. Here's the translated meaning:_

_Bandu thoribas!: _Prepare to fight!

Thalassae?: "Thalassian?" ("Do you speak Thalassian?").


	11. Truths and Lies

**A/N:** _Wow! I'm so happy to see the reviews picking up. Keep 'em coming! _

_**Sneaky66**: Thanks for letting me know! I've taken that into consideration and kept this chapter pretty low-key because of that._

_**Mephis85**: I'm so glad to see you like the story. I'll keep putting these chapters out every other day, if I can. :)_

_**Forlorne**: Hahah, that's why Rowan would sap first. Missed pickpockets can be dangerous. :O Thanks so much for the support, you rock._

_**DarkDesh**: Thanks for reviewing my story, I'm glad you've come to enjoy it!_

**Truths and Lies**

* * *

Knocking on doors in Silvermoon City was always considered rude. Delicate chime doorbells were installed on all residential buildings, keeping with the ever-present serenity of the Sin'dorei capital. So, when Priestess Elluine's afternoon tea was disrupted by the sound of savage knocking, her lips curled into an annoyed scowl. The maid stepped forward to open the large door, but Elluine waved her away. She pulled the door open, unsurprised to see the middle-aged jewelcrafter.

"Ah, Mr. Duskblaze. It's such a pleasure to see you this afternoon," she said, forcing herself to smile politely.

"Don't trouble me with your niceties, woman. I've come here for the truth," Duskblaze snapped.

Elluine nodded and stepped back, holding the door open for the angry man. She'd been anticipating his visit for days and had already dreamed up perfectly logical rebuttals to any of the man's accusations. He stepped into the entryway and stood close to the priestess, meaning to intimidate her with his tall stature. Her silk robes swished as she gracefully turned away from him, leading him to the sitting room. The parlor was sumptuously decorated in bright red and gold with plush furniture. She motioned for him to sit on the divan opposite her.

"I am so sorry for the problems this has caused, Mr. Duskblaze. I had no idea that Anasteria meant to fool me into thinking that nonsense about her fleeing to Thousand Needles," she began, wringing her hands theatrically.

He was taken off-guard by this new revelation that the priestess gave. Dorial Duskblaze never suspected his daughter might have purposely thrown everyone off guard. He assumed that her teachers recruited her. Not wanting to completely fold to her explanation, he held onto the only inconsistency he could think of.

"If that's true, then I don't see how you knew about it before we did. I only found out yesterday when my son came home empty-handed!"

She smoothed her robes and addressed his argument, "I was told that she was in Ashenvale by my son, Tasius. The two were good friends when she was a student in Undercity and I had only become aware that she fled there when he wrote me about the attack on the outpost there," she replied, adding, "I really had no idea until very recently."

"So she told you that she was going to Thousand Needles, you believed her, then let her go there? Did it not occur to you to even _ask _if she had our consent?" he roared.

The priestess straightened at his harsh tone, "Well, it was much too late by then. She left a letter behind explaining where she supposedly went."

She watched the jeweler as he considered her response, trying not to be amused at how slow he was. He reminded her of a toddler trying to put together a jigsaw puzzle.

After what seemed like hours, the man sighed. "Did you send anyone after her?" he asked.

"Thankfully, my son is stationed at the Mor'shan Base Camp. It's right on the border of Ashenvale. He has gone out in search of her and I suspect that we will learn if she's been captured or.." she didn't finish her sentence. _Captured or killed. _She continued, "I didn't want to inform you until I was sure that he could be excused from his duties to help us."

Elluine was actually quite shocked when she received a letter from the Orc camp, telling her that her son deserted his post. She found his defiant letters entertaining, but didn't expect his rebellion to go this far. Either way, his decision to oppose her will had actually helped when it came time to face the girl's father.

After a few perfunctory exchanges, the man thanked her and left. She returned to her tea, now lukewarm, and smiled.

She was off the hook.

* * *

Anasteria woke before Rowan. Instead of getting up and forcing her tired muscles into the sitting position she meditated in, she laid back studied his face. His eyelashes fluttered and he seemed to be dreaming about something pleasant, the corners of his mouth upturned in a faint smile. She was scarcely able to believe the events that took place last night. If he hadn't noticed the bruises on her shoulder, how far would they have gone? The young priestess had never been with a man before, but she knew that she wanted him then. She curled up closer to him and pressed her lips to his, letting them linger there until his eyelids opened. He kissed her hungrily, his hands reaching around her back to crush their bodies together. When they broke away, he spoke.

"I was dreaming about you."

"Well, it looks like your dream came true. Here I am, in your arms..ready to be swept away!" she joked.

"Have you made your decision?" he asked seriously.

She smiled at him, planting another kiss on his soft lips.

"I have. I'd really like to wash though, since we're near a stream. I'll tell you when I get back," she answered. She didn't want to let him know just yet.

Rowan sat up and dug through his rucksack.

"Here," he said, "I packed an extra pair of clothes, but I figure you might need them more."

He was right. The once beautiful silk robe had seen better days. Its sleeve had been ripped from the night in the stables and there was mud caked along the hem. It transformed from a deep crimson to an ugly reddish-brown. She took the bundle gratefully and left.

The water prickled her skin and it took every ounce of willpower for Anasteria to fully submerge herself in the cold stream. She scrubbed at her face with her hands, wishing she at least had a bar of soap. The morning birds had already come out and she closed her eyes, listening to their songs. Finishing up quickly, she waded over to where her new set of clothes sat. They were obviously a bit big for her, but the tunic fit well enough and the short trousers could be held up with her belt. She fingered the embroidery on the collar, a depiction of a raven mid-flight against the backdrop of a crescent moon.

Rowan returned shortly after, carrying the carcass of what looked to be a rabbit. He set the animal down and stood back to look at her.

"It fits you well, but.. we'll buy something a little nicer later," he added quickly, "If you're coming with me, that is."

She couldn't help but be amused that he still thought her decision hung in the balance.

"Of course I'm coming with you, Rowan. I just didn't want to make you think I give in so easily."


	12. Just a Child

**_Sneaky66: _**_Glad you liked the last chapter! I'll try to remember to keep things paced out. I have this all in my head and I sometimes just ache to get it all out at once. Heheh. Hope you like this chapter!  
_

_**Mephis85: **I know, isn't she? D: Karma will get back to her one day, I hope._

**Just a Child**

* * *

The sun slid across the sky, its rays slowly shifting angles through the branches as morning faded to afternoon. Anasteria watched her lover, his eyes fixed to the map held before them.

"Kalimdor can hardly be called paradise after the Sundering. Every region around us is either desolate or corrupt," he remarked, fingers tracing prospective routes.

He looked so pensive and she couldn't help herself. Putting one arm over his shoulder, she buried her face into his neck. A momentary shiver rippled through his body as she bit at his earlobe. Straightening, he gently pushed her away.

"What's wrong?" she smiled innocently.

"We need to find a way out of here. It's too dangerous to be so close to the border and they've probably sent people after us by now. I can't think with you.." he fumbled for the correct words, "doing that."

Rebuffed, Anasteria extricated herself from him and sat quietly. _That's probably how husbands are,_ she thought, _they want their wife to be serious when they're serious, happy when they're happy. _She dismissed that last thought. Rowan wasn't like that. They were both in danger and he was rightfully trying to protect them. Leaning forward, she pointed to a region on the map that was close to Ashenvale,

"How about here?" she asked.

"Hm, yes. I was thinking about heading to Stonetalon as well. They would be looking for us there though, it's a very obvious hiding place. It's either that, or going to Felwood or Azshara," he said uneasily.

"We would have to go past Astranaar to go that far north," she countered.

"You're right. Stonetalon it is. I don't know if we should take the tunnel there though, they might have guards watching it. I guess we really have no other choice."

They did have a choice, actually. Well, Rowan did. He would have no problem getting through the tunnel to Stonetalon if he slipped into stealth. Anasteria, on the other hand, was not capable of semi-invisibility. _I guess he'll have to deal with me complicating things. _As the two mulled over their plan, the sound of clinking metal brought them both out of conversation.

Then there was a scream. To Anasteria, it sounded like gibberish, probably Darnassian. The rogue was quickly to rise though, his ears pricked upward in alarm.

"It's Vorena," he muttered. "She's telling me to run."

It became apparent why such a command would be given though. Anasteria was first to see it, her eyes more adept at seeing through the light of day. A broad-shouldered man was wrestling a woman to the ground, his sword unsheathed. Long strands of shocking orange flicked out of his helmet, like flames escaping a brazier. _Tasius. _Without hesitation, she turned to Rowan.

"He hasn't seen you yet. Stealth. Now," she said, her jaw clenched tightly.

Without argument, Rowan slipped into the shadows until he was no longer visible. The priestess took a tentative step forward, then shrunk back in horror. He was standing over her body, sword raised above his head. Words couldn't come fast enough. She stood there, mouth agape, as Tasius brought the massive blade down on the woman's head. The huntress's skull split open, a splash of red goring the pristine earthen floor.

"I'm sorry, Ana. I didn't want you to see that. She attacked me," he said, his sword still embedded into her skull.

She made no attempt to reply, her eyes wide in terror. _What had battle done to him?_ As if sensing her fright, Tasius stepped forward, sheathed his sword, and drew her into his arms.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, his voice softening to a murmur. "I've been riding all day and night to find you. I was so scared that something happened."

It was painful to be held in his arms, knowing that man she truly loved was watching from the distance, understanding every word Tasius spoke. She shuddered, her eyes filling with frustrated tears. Fate had caught up to punish her. The Blood Elf drew back slightly, reaching into his cloak.

"This moment has been running through my head all day," he said into her ear, clasping the ornate necklace around her.

The necklace felt heavy, as though it weren't a token of love, but a collar. Anasteria realized that if she wanted any chance with Rowan, she had to put away her fear and stand up to Tasius.

"I won't go," she said. She meant to sound firm, but the words came out watery.

Tasius lifted her chin up slightly, a gesture that used to be loving and affectionate. Their eyes locked for a few painful moments before he spoke.

"Please don't worry about your father. Yes, he's furious right now, but you have to face him sometime. There's not much else I can tell you though, love.." he sighed.

"I'm not going to home to be wed off," she spat.

"You don't have to be..wed off. Ana, if you chose to marry me, I'd promise to always protect you. You know I could give you a comfortable life, a good home. You wouldn't have to go back to work for your father," he said, his hands idly stroking her hair.

The wind picked up suddenly, as if rushing forth to help emphasize the word that Anasteria was about to speak.

"No." She clenched her teeth, "Never. I won't go anywhere with you..you're a liar."

She didn't even know what she was saying at that point. _A liar?_ The words forced their way out without reason or forethought. His eyes bore into her own, darkened with rage..but also furtiveness. There was no way that Anasteria could have known about his mother's puppeteering. He had come too far to let her call him out on something that was hardly in his control.

"I abandon my post, steal a horse, put my neck out on the line for you and I get called a liar? I risked my life every day with the Outriders, upholding honor and truth, and you stand here and disparage me when I come to save you from this place? You are nothing but a child, Anasteria. You don't want to get married to anyone because you've always been in love with yourself. What are you going to do here alone? Play jungle-woman?"

This wasn't going well and Anasteria knew it. Tasius was going to bring her home, whether she insulted him or not. Truth was the only other alternative. _The truth would get us both killed._ Her ears burned as she felt Rowan's gaze fixed on her. Would he even want her after learning about Tasius?

"I..I cannot go with you," she whispered.

"Why not?"

His eyes flicked down to the collar of her, rather Rowan's, tunic.

"Where did you get this?" his fingers moved to the collar, pinching the woven design as if to squish it to nothingness.

The raven and moon embroidered on the collar was a uniquely Night Elf design. No Sin'dorei would ever possess such clothing. There was always the possibility that she simply found the tunic, or taken it from a dead body. It'd be entirely plausible, but it wouldn't be the truth. If she couldn't stand up for Rowan, how did she expect to live the rest of her life with him?

"Answer me!" he roared, cutting into her thoughts.

By the time her lips parted to form a reply, he had turned around. He raised his arms high, summoning a blaze of fire from the ground. _Consecration. _The spell was used to expose and burn anyone hiding in the vicinity. The dirt sizzled and spat as the heat consumed it, but Rowan was nowhere to be seen.

"This tent, these bags.." Tasius was saying, motioning to the now smoldering supplies.

Yet as he turned to face her, his body lurched forward. She reached for him, but was surprised when he didn't fall. Instead, his body hung there as if suspended by some magical force. Rowan broke stealth and appeared behind the paladin. He had sapped the paladin, they would be safe.

"We don't have long until he comes to," he panted, pocketing his slingshot.

"Will he remem--," Anasteria started.

"No," Rowan cut her off. "This is important, Anasteria, and we have only moments."

She nodded, waiting for him to tell her the plan.

"You need to go with him." He continued over her as she began to argue. "It was wrong of me to try to take you away from your people. He's right, you're so young.. you're still only a child."

"A child?" she reeled, her voice becoming shrill with rage. "If you wanted me to be a woman, you should've left me with that _human _for a moment longer in the stables. He would've seen to that quickly."

"Anasteria," he said, enunciating each syllable of her name slowly, mournfully. "I did what was right. I will never regret taking you away from there, but I cannot bring you with me. I made myself into an outlaw when I murdered Duncan. Taking you with me would force you to live with my crime every day of your life, you don't realize that yet. Every day that we're on the run. Every time that we would have to find somewhere new to live. You are like no woman I have ever met and I will never let myself forget you."

His eyes shifted to Tasius, who was due to regain consciousness soon.

"Why won't you fight him? Why won't you fight for me?" she cried.

Sighing, he brought his arms around her, crushing her to him. She buried her face into his chest and inhaled, making herself remember the musky scent of his leather armor, letting her tears paint dark trails down it.

"I could never beat him in close combat."

"But I could heal you," she sputtered.

"No. I do not want him turning on you. Please.." he said softly, "this is the only way."

Before she could argue any further, he pulled away and slipped back into nothingness. She stood there, frozen with shock. Her world was upended and she couldn't fight to keep her legs steady anymore. Everything faded into an impenetrable grey.

--

Awakening to the sound of hoof beats and the jolt of a horse underneath her body caused Anasteria much disorientation. She felt herself slide sideways on the beast, her limp body falling toward the swiftly moving ground in slow motion. A large hand righted her on the saddle and she almost mistook it for Rowan's, but the gauntlet was Tasius's Feeling finally rushed to her body in a devastating sweep that brought her attention the most minute details of that moment. The way Tasius's chest rose and fell against her back, the sound of his breathing, the smell of the horse.. all flashed unbidden across her senses.

"Water?" Tasius asked, though it was more of a command than an offer.

He held the canteen to her lips and she drank greedily. The cold liquid slid down her throat and she felt herself return to that familiar state of normality. Along with normality came the intensely painful realization that she was no longer with Rowan. The day's events came at her like a bullet, and she could only sit there, helpless and exposed. Tasius must have felt the sob rising in her chest, for he spoke again.

"I'm taking you home, where you'll be safe.." he said, his voice still firm, but with a touch of gentleness.

Leaning forward, he chanced a light kiss upon her cheek.


	13. Crime and Marriage

**Crime and Marriage**

* * *

"Are you sure you don't want to go? I could take you somewhere else if you'd like," Tasius said, reaching around to buckle his breastplate.

"I'm not feeling well, Tasius. We'll go to the theater some other time," she mumbled, head buried into the plush down pillow.

He set his helmet down and sat at the foot of their bed, studying her face intently. "Should I summon the doctor?"

"No.." she whispered. "It's nothing, I just feel weak today."

"Is it..?" his eyes drifted to her stomach.

It had been over a year since their marriage and Anasteria knew that she could not hold off her husband's hopes for a child. When they arrived in Silvermoon, he told her that he wanted a future with her. Saying no was hardly an option since she had nowhere else to turn, so she accepted his proposal. Her father, deciding that her marriage to a Bloodknight was no longer an affront to his authority, eventually forgave her and family bonds were restored. On Anasteria's left ring finger sat an exquisitely-crafted gold band mounted with a brilliant ruby (her father's specialty), offset with diamonds on both sides. It was a marvelous piece of jewelry that required weeks of painstaking skill and labor to create, but she didn't feel worthy of it. The first few months of their marriage had been nearly unbearable for Anasteria and she considered running away, but the pain of losing Rowan gradually receded to the background of her thoughts. It was now her accepted fate to live out her life with Tasius and be a good wife. This left her with occasional bouts of inconsolable depression and she'd lay in bed for days wondering where Rowan was, or what he was thinking about.

"Perhaps," she said finally, forcing a smile. It was better than saying no to him, he deserved some hope.

Resting his large hand on her stomach, he leaned over and kissed her softly. Had she been a different woman in different world, she might've longed for the kisses and caresses he gave so freely. Always gentle and honest, he nearly wept with shame when he told Anasteria how he let his mother meddle with her life. Even when she insisted that she forgave him, he swore to her that he'd do everything in his power to make things right again. The luxuriously large featherbed, silk dresses, finely-crafted combs, were all bought by Tasius to ensure that his wife would never be without the best.

"I better be off. Drills start in an hour," he paused, fervently adding, "I love you, Ana."

She mumbled reply, then sank back into the covers. She didn't think she was with child, but the very thought of pregnancy terrified her. Living this lie for Tasius's sake was one thing, but to have to raise a child as well? _I'm being selfish, _she thought. _I have a good husband who loves and honors me, but I give my heart to a Night Elf that I've only known for a few days. _

No matter how many times she chastised herself, her heart would never be convinced that she would spend the rest of her life with Tasius.

* * *

Rowan tore his undershirt into long strips, wrapping the longest piece around his bleeding forearm. The wound throbbed and he clenched his teeth as he wound the fabric around his injured limb. This one had put up a fight and Rowan had come close to meeting his end on the cobblestone road three stories below. Leaning over to retrieve her daggers, physical proof that the job was done, he studied her face. A Human woman with caramel-colored skin that was barely a shade lighter than her hair. His nose wrinkled at the noxious smell of Deathweed that lingered around her wounds. The poisonous herb, when properly mixed, infiltrated the body's nervous system, causing it to attack itself. After the host succumbed, it would prevent them from being resurrected by a priest. It was the perfect poison for assassinations, but left a harsh smell akin to rotting vegetables and vinegar.

Slipping the daggers into his pack, he left. It was past midnight and the moon had already drifted behind the towering cityscape, casting almost no light across the empty street. He hurried along, wanting to be rid of the daggers so he could collapse into his bed and forget about the world for six hours.

"What've ya got for me, Longears?" asked Flynn, his boss.

The elf unclasped the flap of his backpack proffering it to him. His heavy-lidded brown eyes scanned the daggers greedily and he wiped his hands on his vest before touching them.

"You'll get your payment when Parrot wakes up. He handles the vault."

Rowan turned to leave, but then paused in the doorway of the decrepit house that served as their hideout.

"What'd she do.. the woman, I mean," he asked.

Flynn looked up at him, annoyed, but answered. "The fuck I know. Pops told me she wasn't a believer. That's all he needed to say."

Nodding assent, the rogue let the house and headed toward the seedy inn that served as his home. The old building was dank from years of water dripping through the shingles, but it served him well enough. With a perfunctory nod to the innkeeper, he climbed upstairs to his room. Stormwind, for all its glory, had its bad parts of town and this was one of them. Sounds of fights, robberies, rapes, and other fits of violence rang through the alleyways at night, making it difficult to sleep uninterrupted. He pulled the grimy blankets around himself and shut his eyes.

Sleep wouldn't come easily that night though. Not by fault of the local riff-raff, but by his own thoughts. He tried to push the image of Anasteria out of his mind, convincing himself that he didn't even remember what she looked like. But he did, even the smallest details. He remembered how her honey hair gathered to a seductive widow's peak, giving her face a heart-shaped appearance. How warm her slender body felt pressed against his own, how good she tasted when they kissed. When he had too much to drink, he would curse her for bringing this fate upon him. He would blame her for his fall from venerable soldier to exiled assassin, but the anger always left as quickly as it came. If he had the chance to go back in time he would kill Duncan all over again, even just to save her innocence. _Her innocence.. _he thought. _She probably married that smug paladin. _Though he occasionally took the company of the inn's wenches, the thought of Anasteria with that man hurt him deeply. He loved her, he'd even killed to protect her. _That carrot-headed gnat just charged in and galloped away with her in his arms like he was the hero. He never saved her life.  
_

He got out of bed and went to the sideboard for a cup of wine. As he sipped the watery Cabernet, he wondered where she was and what she was thinking about. A knock at the door startled him out of his reverie and he leapt up in response, the metal cup clanging to the floor.

"Light's sake, Rowan.." the voice muttered, "it's just me."

A sigh of relief escaped his lips, shortly followed by an annoyed groan.

"Ryalle, I don't need your..services tonight," he said through the door.

"Fine, at least open the door. I just feel like talking."

"Well I don't. And I don't feel like being charged by the hour to talk to you." Would she never give up?

There was a momentary clicking sound near the handle before the door swung open, revealing the seductively-clad barmaid. Ryalle strode in, smiling broadly as she slipped the hairpin back into her mess of brown curls. The woman could indeed be called attractive, a full curvaceous body that was accentuated by a slim waist. She shut the door behind her and plopped into the chair opposite the elf, neatly crossing her ankles (why she always did that, he could never figure out).

"How was your 'job' tonight?" she asked, helping herself to the jug of wine.

"None of your business. How was yours?" he shot.

"Hm, fine, be that way," she said, pretending to sulk. "You're grouchier than an Orc, you know. Have you ever been with an Orc before? I have."

A coquettish smile spread across her full lips as she delighted in his shock. Orcs, not being known for their beauty or winning personalities, were still considered the enemy. Why would she tell him something so.. so disturbing?

"I'm joking," she laughed. "But what of you? Have you ever.. crossed factions?" She winked to emphasize the innuendo.

"No," he stood abruptly, pulling her up by the elbow. "Now get out of my room, whore."

A flicker of hurt passed through her face and Rowan almost apologized for using the disparaging word, but kept silent. The woman had no right to barge into his room at night and bother him so. She yanked her elbow away, as if sickened to be touched by him. Her features softened and she regained her characteristic smile.

"Remember when we shared that bottle of rum?" she asked.

"What of it?" he snapped. This was getting ridiculous. He moved to grab her elbow again, but she eluded his hands.

"When we came up here," smiling, she gestured to the bed, "and had a little fun."

That was enough. Rowan seized her, his mouth tightening to a threatening scowl that was only reserved for those who pushed him too far. The few times he'd been with Ryalle could only be recollected as a blur of desperately passionate moments they shared while he was drunk. The next morning, he would burn with regret and self-loathing, sending the woman away with insults and curses. Where once he criticized his comrades for their corrupt behavior, he now reciprocated, sending himself further down the path of hypocrisy. He dragged her across the room and shoved her out into the hallway, shutting her out. Through the crack of light beneath the door, the shadow of her feet could still be seen. _What is this woman's problem?_

"What was that name you called me, hm? Now that I think of it, 'Anasteria' doesn't sound all that Night Elvish. Nor Dwarvish.. not Gnomish.. certainly not Drae—"

The door was suddenly ripped open and he came at her, hands curling around her bejeweled neck. She went rigid, fingernails digging into his hands in attempt to free herself. After a moment he regained his composure, slowly relaxing his chokehold and pulling away. Ryalle sunk to the wooden floor, her chest heaving as her hands fluttered to her neck.

"Rowan, please. Alright..I'll speak plainly with you," she said brokenly.

"I don't want to hear anymore from you, wench," he spat, turning back to the doorway.

"She's a Blood Elf," blurted the woman. "None on the side of the Alliance would ever have a name so close to that of Anasterian Sunstrider. Please.. I don't mean you harm. I want to _help _you."

The Night Elf's jaw tightened as his rage boiled over into the coals white-hot fury. Was she making a mockery of him? He'd nearly choked the life out of her and she _dared _to push her luck? Rowan's face drained to a pale lavender, eyes narrowing to golden slits. The barmaid flattened herself against the wall, as if drawing herself further away would spare her.

With tears roaming down her rouged cheeks, she spoke in a voice so soft that her words only registered after Rowan slammed the door.

_"I loved once, too."_

* * *

_A/N: I'm going to add my author's notes here so I don't spoil anything in my comments. I really liked writing this chapter. The new characters (and circumstances) in the story are, I think, very necessary to move things along to where I need them (that's as much as I'm going to say). Thank you all for your comments! I always like reading what everyone has to say about the story, so don't feel like you can't leave multiple reviews or anything!_


	14. Afternoon Tea

**Afternoon Tea  
**

* * *

Anasteria stifled a look of disgust at the plate set before her. An abnormally round semi-circle of fish paste sat in an oily pool of its own juices, flanked by liver pâté sandwiches and a few thin water biscuits. Priestess Elluine, or just Elluine now, had been inviting her over for tea once a week since she married Tasius. With each visit, Anasteria found herself wondering if the woman was attempting to punish her for some unknown crime by serving such disgusting appetizers.

_Either that, or Sin'dorei culture is getting more confused about the definition of "food." If that's the case, I can expect to be eating pigeons next week._

She resolved to eat one of the biscuits, but stopped short when she realized its underside was soggy from the fish oil. Elluine must've saw the woman's discomfort, for she stopped her animated chatter.

"Is everything alright?" she asked, her chin tipped upward so that she was peering down at Anasteria with half-lidded eyes.

"Oh..no, no! I just don't have much of an appetite," Anasteria replied, a little too exuberantly. Lying had always been her weakness and her old instructor always knew. For once, she'd like to fool the old hag.

"Perhaps it's just the lighting, but your cheeks do seem a bit rosier today. You are not ill, are you?"

The young priestess certainly felt ill. It was usually possible to withstand the barrage of strange odors that constituted afternoon tea with Elluine, but she was truly about to become sick. The older woman took her by the hand, leading her to a wicker divan at the other side of the garden terrace. She sunk into the plush cushion, waiting for her head to stop spinning before she spoke.

"I don't know. For a few days, I've felt weak."

Taking Anasteria's hand in her own soft fragranced one, Elluine smiled and said, "Because you're six weeks pregnant."

She bolted upright, ready to challenge her former instructor's rash assumption. How dare she blurt that out? Anasteria made to rise from the divan, but dizziness claimed her weakened body, forcing her to lie back down. It couldn't be possible. Yet, it made sense. She had skipped her cycle and these dizzy spells were certainly indicators. The thought of bringing a little life into the world terrified her, and she chose to question her mother-in-law before accepting the truth.

"How would you know such a thing?" she asked, voice shaking with unease.

"My sweet girl," she began, "I've been a priestess for seventy years now! Birthing is one of the first things we learn as healers!"

"But.. _I_ didn't learn about birthing."

Elluine placed a cool hand on her daughter-in-law's forehead. "Because you went to Undercity for your studies. The Undead have no need for in-depth knowledge about a process they do not possess!"

A flare of anger arose at the mere mention of Undercity. She bore a longtime grudge against her teacher for using her as a guinea pig, no a pawn, without so much as a thought to Anasteria's safety. Though there had been "I'm sorry"'s and "I didn't mean to"'s repeated to her for the past year and a half, the feelings of anger over her betrayal never fully evaporated. They probably never would, for that matter. She sat up slowly and swung her legs over the side of the divan, careful not to move too quickly.

"I think I need to go home to rest."

"In your state, I really don't think that's a good idea, dear. Perhaps we should wait until Tasius is home, then he can escort you safely back. Plus, I can't wait to see his face when he hears the news!" she clasped her hands excitedly, a gesture reminiscent of young Sin'dorei girls on the eve of their first Sunfury Ball.

She nodded assent and lay down again, closing her eyes in hopes that Elluine would leave her to rest.

* * *

A gentle hand brought her out of the dreamless sleep she tumbled headfirst into. Rheum encrusted the corners of her eyes and it took her a moment to slowly unstick the gummed lids. How long had she slept? The nightingales were out, the melody of their sweet songs muffled by the damp air. _A songbird does not actually sing, and should never be rightly called such, _Rowan told her, once upon a time in Ashenvale, _We say that they sing, and that their songs are beautiful, but we imply that they could choose not to sing. That they could withhold those enchanting melodies from us, or pick a different form of communication—as we humanoids often do. Those songs are their words and when they trail off, they are answered by their lovers. We hear it as a duet when it is really a conversation. They do not sing for our amusement, just as we do not speak or write for theirs._

The hand shook her again, displacing the memory as a stone skipping across a lake. She wasn't ready to let go of it and her mind scoured every facet of that rippled surface for an image, smell, or sound that could spirit her back to it. When she tried to think of Rowan's smell—leather, herbs, and the faint scent of his sweat—she was met with metal and blood. Though Tasius never came home bloodstained its ferric smell mingled with his chest plate, leaving the armor with a nose-wrinkling stench that never washed away. It was a smell she thought she had gotten used to.

"Ana.." he whispered, squeezing her palm.

_I don't want the child to be his, _she realized bitterly. Tasius, even with his flame-red hair and perfectly masculine features, wasn't who she dreamed of in her future. In her daydreams he was not the one letting their children climb all over him, eyes bright with love and happiness. Tasius's blazing green eyes were almost sinister, his face and body too angular in composition. Compared to Rowan's gentle countenance, he was almost demonic.

"I'm going to fetch a doctor. She's weak," Tasius said, rising to leave.

"Why, you have a perfectly capable mother right here!" Elluine exclaimed, motioning him to sit back down. "Such a small thing she is, as are most her age. She'll never get her strength back if she eats for one, instead of two!"

The matter-of-fact tone in the elder priestess's voice sent Anasteria upright, her face twisting into a scowl so fierce it could blanche almonds.

"You seem fit to criticize me after I've knowingly held this baby for less than a day? I have the will and strength to carry two babies in my womb, if ever need be, and I refuse to be told otherwise by anyone, especially you," she paused, adding, "So, I suggest you mind your own, swamp harpy."

Anasteria spat those words like venom at the mother of her husband. She despised, no.. hated Elluine. This hag sent her, a mere initiate, to a warzone to fend for herself. No doubt existed in Anasteria's mind that she would try something similar when her baby grew into a child. She coped knowing that she herself had been used for the sake of Elluine's ambition, but Light be damned if that woman tried it on her child. Her gaze shot to Tasius, but he would not meet her eyes. A gob of spit formed in her mouth and she contemplated hurling it at her coward of a husband, but let it slide down her throat instead. If he could not even stand against his mother for insulting the woman he shared his bed with, his wife who carried his firstborn, he was of little worth. The only time he was inspired to heroics was when he "rescued" her from Ashenvale—which, she realized later, was done for the sake of easing his guilt.

She had allowed herself to be used and, if she stayed, the same would happen to her baby. Alone, she could not stop Elluine from tampering with the child's future. _My own complacence has brought this on my shoulders. I sat idle, resigning myself to being a dutiful housewife. It was only a matter of time before Tasius seeded me, and I foolishly hoped he would step up to be the man I expected him to be. _

"You dare.." Elluine snarled, her serene visage darkened with rage.

"Mother, no.. She's just tired, she didn't mean it." Tasius placed his hands on his wife's shoulders, pulling her back toward him.

Oh, how she wanted to throw her damned wedding ring into the lake, and scream the oath of divorce in his face. She wanted to watch him flinch with hurt as she renounced her loyalty to him, her love for him, and the warmth of her body from his bed. And she would have done just that, were it not for the tiny soul housed within her womb. Anasteria wasn't foolish enough to run away just yet. The only person who would ever help her was Rowan, and what business would he want with raising another man's child?

As Tasius led her home, she realized that she could not wait around for someone to rely on. She needed to act now, before her pregnancy progressed too far along.While her husband slept, she weighed her options. There was something devilishly exciting about plotting against her husband as he lay beside her in bed. A surge of excitement rose in her chest and it took every scrap of willpower to steady her breathing. The anticipation of freedom was almost too much to bear, and she almost felt ashamed for her sudden change of heart toward the man she married. He would forsake them though, and it was her duty to preempt that.

No, she would not kill her husband. She could never take the life of her child's father. At the same time, she knew that he wouldn't spare her such a mercy if she ran away with their baby. Charges of kidnapping, even treason (if they learned of Rowan while interrogating her), could send her to live out the remainder of her days in the dungeons underneath the Sunfury Spire.

If she chose to run, she could never come back.

* * *

_A/N: Thanks so much for all the great reviews! I really feel inspired when I read each one of them.  
_

_ Mephis85: I know! Poor Rowan. I'm glad you liked the chapter, despite it's depressiveness. :P_

_Ariesgirl6: Not a single flaw? _You're muchhh too kind!

_Nanotech0: Aha! I was waiting for this comment. Yes, the Bloodknights do bend the Light in order to serve their own purposes. However, I think that their moral code, despite the "perversion" of Light, remains similar. Just because they abuse their power doesn't mean they don't fight with honor. _


	15. Donni the Crazy Cat Lady

**Donni the Crazy Cat Lady**

* * *

Rowan leaned back in his chair, amused at the progression of rowdiness that took place after the kegs ran dry. The tavern-goers, locked in drunken delight, caroused and cavorted to an almost dangerous degree. Tankards clanged to the floor, chairs scraped loudly across the wooden floor, and wenches..wenched. He glanced over at Ryalle, whose corset lay open as a prospective client inspected her naked body. It was getting late at night and this type of behavior wasn't totally uncommon at the inn. Either way, it was apparent that he should head back to his room, lest he get pounced by one of the less-favored barmaids who hadn't been paired off yet.

Ryalle's eyes met his gaze and she abruptly broke off her feigned looks of pleasure to smile and give him a friendly wave. It had been a week since their encounter and he'd done his damndest to avoid her, though it wasn't easy since she worked where he lived. He didn't know what the woman wanted from him, or why she'd offered to help him. It was frightening that she knew about Anasteria, if not for her sake, then his own. Fraternizing with the opposing faction would deem him an "unbeliever," punishable by quiet assassination. The Stormwind Assassins never held trials, rather, they relied on the wisdom of the three elders: Pops, Mick, and Sparrow. Rowan had only ever caught a glimpse of Pops; a handkerchief masked the rogue's nose-less face, accentuating those feral green eyes.

He drained his mug, tossing a few silver coins on the table in payment. The tavern seemed on the brink of an all-out orgy as he headed up the old staircase to his room. Pulling off his worn leather boots, he sunk to the bed gratefully. Even the prickly straw mattress felt like a featherbed to his aching body. A leaden sleep fell over him, drowning the roar of laughter downstairs.

So deep was his sleep, that his keen ears didn't pick up the sound of his door slowly creaking open.

* * *

A pair of hands jerked at the front of his tunic, startling Rowan awake. Cursing, he moved to grab the dagger beneath his pillow before a familiar voice stopped him short of committing murder.

"Will you at least open your damned eyes before you decide to gut me?" Ryalle's hands moved to his wrists, holding them in place at his sides. Her grip was obviously not strong enough to restrain him, but he did cease his struggles.

"Why can't you knock?" he retorted, snatching her hands away. _Gods, I hope this isn't a repeat of last week._

"I guess neither of us can't do anything right," she said dismissively. "Now, listen to me. Rowan, you can't stay here—"

"Are you out of your mind?" he cut her off. This was going too far. This woman was obviously stalking him for some reason he couldn't figure out. He rose from his bed, dragging her by the arm toward the door. It was time he had a little talk with the innkeeper about buying locks that could withstand women's hairpins. She blocked the entrance with her body, her dark eyes wide with emotions he could not read.

"A group of Night Elves are outside looking for you." Not knowing if he'd believe her story, she offered, "They were looking for a 'Rowan Starfire.' That wouldn't happen to be your surname, now would it?"

Heart slamming against his chest, Rowan released her and turned to snatch up his backpack. The fact that they knew his name and had come all the way to Stormwind was proof enough that he would no longer be safe here. He wondered what tipped them off. Since he arrived at the human capital he'd avoided the city park, a local hangout for the minority Kaldorei population. Even more, he seldom ventured out during the daytime. It didn't matter right now though, he had to escape before one of the loose-tongued drunkards downstairs admitted to knowing him. A year and a half of hiding and they were still looking for him. Why was Duncan's life so valuable to them? Or were they on his trail because he'd taken a Sin'dorei prisoner with him? A jolt of ice-cold fear shot through him as he realized what he had done. Though he was just a rogue, he held a significant position with The Keepers of Ashenvale and was privy to a few bits of privileged information. Battle plans, fortifications, supply routes.. gods, they would _never_ cease searching for him. How could he have been so foolish?

In saving Anasteria, he damned himself in more ways than he could have imagined.

"How are you planning to leave?" Ryalle's voice brought him back to the present. "They were at the entrance of the inn when I last saw them. You can't go back that way."

A vile curse escaped his lips and he dug his hand into the backpack, pulling out a leather-covered grappling hook. It took a few tries to force the old window to open, but it eventually gave way. The thick night air engulfed his lungs, providing him with a surge of courage he desperately needed. Rogue or not, Rowan disliked heights. He always imagined those painful few seconds of conscious demise that he would experience if he ever fell. Sucking in his breath, he aimed the hook and launched it toward a stovepipe. The pipe looked to be made of tin scraps, but it'd have to suffice. Two jerks to the rope said it was securely fastened.

"Ladies first," he handed the rope to the barmaid.

"Right. So I can cushion your fall when that old stovepipe gives out?" She rolled her eyes, but took the rope into her hands. Climbing to the window sill, she descended the wall with a surprising grace.

In truth, Rowan wanted her to go first in case the elves stormed the room. He didn't know what they would do with her if they caught the two together. Ryalle had risked herself by coming to inform him and he owed her at least this much. If she was a stalker, she at least was a helpful one.

Down the hall, the sound of splintering wood grew louder as his captors drew near. Doors were being kicked down and his would surely be next. Gritting his teeth, he clutched the rope and swung himself out the window. Rowan wasn't used to using his grappling hook in a hurry and his heart nearly burst as the ground came at him with frightening quickness. A sharp pain branched up his legs as soon as his feet connected with the cobblestones and he did all but cry out. His body would have hell to pay tomorrow morning. Wrapping one arm around his body, Ryalle helped him limp to the shadows of the alleyway.

So deft was her navigation through the labyrinth of side streets, that Rowan realized that she had a planned route of escape. He opened his mouth to speak, but was shushed immediately.

"Put my cloak on," she said, hurriedly draping the cloth over his shoulders and pulling the hood securely over his head.

"Ouch! There aren't any ear holes in this!" His winced as his sensitive ears folded uncomfortably beneath the fabric.

"That's the point, Longears! Now keep your eyes and mouth shut. I don't want us getting caught."

He made to protest, but he saw the sense in her words. Even as a silhouette, it would be plain enough, by his long ears and golden eyes, that he was an elf. Their pace slowed as they reached what Rowan guessed to be the city gates. By that time he was nearly doubled over from the harsh throb in his ankles. He leaned heavily on her shoulder, hoping the buxom woman would be able to bear the extra weight. A lantern raised and a voice of authority froze them in their tracks.

"'Lo! Who goes there?" it called out.

Rowan dipped his head even further downward, as if hiding his face would make him seem less conspicuous. He silently prayed that the guard wouldn't be able to hear his heart hammering in his chest. Ryalle's quick wit came to their aid as she proffered a slight curtsey, made awkward by the Night Elf clinging at her side.

"Evening to you, sir! My grandmother and I are merely venturing to the forest to gather Moonlight Truffles."

_Grandmother?! I'm going to wring that neck of hers. _But he could only shift uncomfortably and hope that his shadowed form could appear elderly, instead of elvenly.

"Moonlight Truffles? Ne'er heard of them," the man replied, his baritone voice carrying into the night. He peered curiously at the two strangers under the visor of his crested helm.

"Well…they're exceptionally rare mushrooms that grow in the light of the moon," she leaned closer to the man, whispering loud enough for Rowan to plainly hear. "They're for my nana's toe warts."

With a bemused glance at the cloaked figure, the guard stepped back to let them pass.

"Hope your nana gets well soon!" he called cheerily as the pair hobbled away.

* * *

Rowan threw the hood off as soon as they were out of sight. Droplets of nervous sweat rolled down his lavender skin, his chest rising heavily as he fought to catch his breath. Elwynn Forest wasn't entirely a safe haven for the elf, but it was better than Stormwind. They turned sharply at the outer gate, venturing along the city wall toward the northern hillside. A gust of warm wind rippled through the forest, leaves rustled in waves under its invisible force. Ryalle paid it no mind as they stumbled over the dense foliage, but Rowan's felt like the forest was shushing them. Perhaps there was danger nearby, or maybe the forest spirits were annoyed at the disruption caused by their trampling feet. Like he knew anyway. He wasn't a druid.

" Where are we going?" he finally asked when the silence grew too long.

"Quiet!" she snapped. "I'll tell you when we're there. It's not safe here. Bandits live about."

After what felt like hours, they drew close to a small cottage at the base of the Northshire Hills. Every fiber of Rowan's body rang out in pain as he stepped through the house's small garden. It was a tiny structure that certainly bore no more than a single room inside its wattle-and-daub walls. A chorus of high-pitched meows could be heard from outside..or was it inside.. the cottage. Ryalle let out a soft whistle to signal her arrival to the home's owner. The sound of dishes clattering to floor, along with an aggravated "Shoot!" errupted from within. Whoever was in there was either surprised at their arrival, or at the very least, incredibly clumsy. He stifled a smirk.

The door burst open unexpectedly as a blonde cleaver-wielding woman stepped out to greet them.

"Ry!" She pulled the barmaid into a fierce hug, blood-covered blade still clutched in her small hand.

"It's great to see you again, Donni," Ryalle said after they drew apart. "We're going to need to stay here for the night. I'm sorry to put this on you without notice, but we're in a spot of trouble. Well, by spot I really mean.. big gaping stain. People coming after us."

Rowan cut her off before she delved into the finer details of their encounter, "It's.. not that bad. Just a local brawl."

Ryalle rolled her eyes at him. "We can trust Donni, Rowan. She isn't going to spill the beans to anyone but her cats."

The woman smiled in response, rubbing her thumb lovingly against the ear of the kitten in the crook of her arm. The little orange ball of fur purred with affection for its mistress. Something about her creeped him out. What young, moderately attractive woman would live as a hermit in the woods? The fact that she embraced her visitors while clutching a bloody meat cleaver was even more disturbing. Rowan resolved to keep his dagger close at hand in case she tried to cut him up for supper while they slept. The two women chatted amiably as Ryalle explained their predicament. Neither seemed bothered that their lives were in danger. Were they both mad?

Donni stoked the fire and the women carried on with their conversation, barely including him in it. Kittens dozed in various corners and cubby holes around the sparsely-furnished, but clean, room. Rowan felt inclined to do the same and he leaned wearily against the wall. Their animated chit-chat subsided and the two women bid each other goodnight. Donni scooped a pile of hay up, laying her flaxen head in it. Ryalle scooted over to him, offering an apologetic smile.

"She doesn't mean to talk so much. It's just that she doesn't often get visitors to her cabin," Ryalle whispered in the flickering light of the fireplace.

Rowan looked over at Donni to make sure she hadn't overheard them speaking about her. The woman was fast asleep, a white cat curled against her chest. He slumped back against the wall, rolling his head back to ease the tense muscles in his neck.

"How do you know her?" he asked. He really wanted to ask why she was so odd, but didn't want to offend the woman's friend.

"Believe it or not, she saved my life when I was little," she replied.

"When you were little? The woman looks barely a few years older than you are!"

She sighed understandingly, "I know. She really keeps her looks. Says her cats keep her looking youthful. Anyway, I was thirteen when my parents died. I hitched a ride out of Westfall with another family and ended up here in Elwynn. I had nowhere to go though. I tried to get work as a farmhand, but no one would hire someone who wasn't kin or close friend. I slept on the streets of Goldshire with only a few silvers to my name. We humans like to brag about the kindness and hospitality of our country folk, but no one showed me a shred of compassion. The harvest was poor that year and I suppose I couldn't blame them for not helping a starving orphan when they could scarcely feed their own children."

Without a thought, Rowan took her hand in his, squeezing it sympathetically. He'd grown up in with parents who loved him and had given him a wonderful childhood. To know that her early years were spent in such hardship kindled within him newfound respect and admiration.

"After only a few weeks, I fell in with thieves. We roamed the countryside, taking corn and potatoes from the fields. We were like a family, always looking out for each other. A year passed by and our little family found a set of parents. The Defias Brotherhood took us into their fold and taught us the art of thievery. Us young ones were put along the road outside Stormwind where we held up lone travelers and such. I returned to our den after a long day of work and lay down to rest when I woke to the sound of hoof beats and men shouting. It was the Stormwind Guard. The Guard, who once upon a time fought back the Orcs, were at our doorstep with swords and torches raised. They burned and killed so many..there was so much blood. One of them grabbed me by the neck and shoved his torch into my hair. I was in so much pain, but I managed to fight him off. Now that I think of it, it must've been a funny sight to see a woman with her hair ablaze stumbling away from such a scene. But at the time, there was nothing funny about the searing pain of my scalp as it was taken by flames..the smell of my own hair burning away. I blacked out from the pain, only to awake in this cabin. Donni tended me with the care and compassion that I had almost thought non-existent among strangers. My hair would've never grown back if she didn't heal me. She nursed me back to normal with more skill than even a priest. We've been close since then."

Ryalle held his hand tighter, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. With all his physical pain forgotten, Rowan sat forward to face her. She was no longer the sly, coquettish bar wench he had come to know. Her brown eyes burned with sorrow and pain, her confident smile was replaced with lips drawn to a grim line. After having such a hard life, he couldn't imagine why she put so much trust in him.

"Why risk so much to help me? You told me that you loved once, but I don't know what you meant or why you looked out for me when I was so cruel toward you. I don't understand, Ryalle," he said softly, not wanting to hurt her or seem ungrateful.

"I promised myself to offer the same help to anyone who was in as dire of a situation as I was. Even still.. I have other reasons that I can't go into explaining right now. My life is a big mess of complications and really long stories. Just know that I will help you find your beloved one day."

_My beloved_.

Anasteria's face flashed through his mind and his heart swelled with longing. He would have gone back in time if he could and fought that damned paladin. He'd have even died a thousand time's to the Bloodknight's sword if it meant being able to hold his Sin'dorei princess once more. Whether it was lovesickness or loneliness that propelled him, he knew not. As sleep claimed him, his mind unleashed an torrent of vivid dreams. Though he would not remember what each was about, the visions joined together in a communal outcry of warning.

"_You must go to her," _they called to him, "_Her life is in danger."_

* * *

_A/N: Whew, long chapter! Big thank you to all those loyal people who have stuck with me and given me such great feedback so far. _

_Peruvian Pie: I know what you mean about amazing stories that have left people hanging since several months/years ago. I do have this story's plot worked out all the way through, so I'm not worried about getting "writer's block" and stopping. Heck, this thing might even reach 30 chapters. D:_

_Forlorne: Underground railroad of neutral zones? Nein, mein Freund. Too cliche, in my opinion. It's more fun to throw characters in ridiculously dangerous areas with Murlocs and stuff. I joke, I joke. But, no.. they won't have the luxury of escaping that easily.They gotta work hard for that lemon scene I'm about to write!_

_Mephis85: I know, a she's preggerz! That'll definitely..ruffle feathers later on._

_Escalus: Do hang on!_


	16. Portals and Priestesses

**Portals and Priestesses**

* * *

Tasius had been fussing over his wife for the past three days, bringing baskets of food and gifts on his way home each night. Sensing Anasteria's annoyance with her son, Elluine suggested that the girl sleep in the guest bedroom for the time being.

"Your snoring certainly won't help her get a restful sleep," she half-joked, smoothing his mussed hair.

Chin resting on folded hands, Tasius was an incredibly handsome sight, even when his face was taut with worry. After her husband died, Elluine was afraid that her son wouldn't grow up to be a proper Highborn man without a father to guide him. She considered remarrying for his sake, but was never able to look upon another man with the love and loyalty she felt for her life-mate. Feeling his mother's gaze upon him, he turned his head to face her.

"She doesn't seem happy with me, mother," he said, his voice barely audible.

_The poor boy_. She wanted to lie and tell him that it was normal for women to become distant during their first few months of pregnancy, but couldn't bring herself to do it. Elluine noticed the girl's sour moods as well and couldn't understand what could possibly make her so unhappy. Her son worshiped Anasteria, always taking care to see that she had everything she could ever want. The ungrateful chit just moped around the house with her messy hair and unkempt robes. The elder priestess had even brought in a few arcane crystals in hopes that it would cheer her up, but the girl merely waved them away. Where it had first been perplexing, it was now infuriating.

Placing a loving kiss on his temple, she replied, "Dearest, Anasteria has always been a bit.. subdued. She'll come out of it when she holds your baby boy in her arms for the first time. All women are glad to have boys as their firstborn. I know I was." She smiled at the memory of his birth.

Yes, it would be a boy. His mother took the liberty of calling the academy's magister over to divine the sex of the unborn child. Anasteria didn't seem moved in the slightest when the elder mage proclaimed it to be a boy. Even his mother's kind words couldn't convince Tasius that his wife would ever love him or be as happy with him as he was with her. If she didn't love him, would she even love their child? His cheeks reddened with shame and he forced the thought away. Anasteria had no cause to hate him and it was disloyal of him to think her an unfit mother.

All he could do was sit there and worry.

Seeing the despair in her son's eyes, Elluine took him into her arms as she had so many times when he was a boy. "I'll go check on her, pumpkin. Everything will be alright. You'll see."

* * *

She was leaving tonight. Anasteria shoved her journal into the already bulging satchel, The knowledge that she had a son invigorated her, renewing that spark of courage within her. Over the course of three days, she withdrew a couple hundred gold coins—barely enough to live off of, but any more would have aroused suspicion. Pausing, she scanned the room to make sure no essential items were left behind. When she was satisfied, she slung the pack over her shoulder and opened the window.

The scent of fresh soil and jasmine filled her nose as she eased herself down from the window's ledge. It was unusually quiet tonight, as if the crickets and owls had decided against any nocturnal activity. The small garden behind their home was unlit, leaving Anasteria to grope around in utter darkness as she made her way toward the gate. Yet as she reached to unlatch it, a prickling sensation shot up her body. There was only one instance where such a feeling was familiar to her and she wheeled around to search for its source. Magic, no matter what type, created a ripple of static that passed through the air. She had little time to discern the nature of the spell before a force seized her body, bringing her down to a kneeling position on the grass.

"I thought as much," said a voice in the dark.

Elluine pulled back the dark cowl that shadowed her face, mouth twisting into a vicious smile. With one hand outstretched, she held Anasteria in thrall while she used the other to manifest an orb to brighten their surroundings. A powerful realization shook the young elf as she looked into her mother-in-law's eyes. Elluine far surpassed her in shadow magic, she could almost be a mage. She never even troubled herself to think about the fact that it was only logical that the elder priestess had learned the dark art before sending Anasteria to Undercity.

"I really wanted to like you, Anasteria," she said, almost sweetly, "For my son's sake, I wanted to. Yet I find you here. I find you attempting to _kidnap_ my grandson," Elluine suddenly stepped forward, her bony fingers connecting with the young woman's face in a vicious slap. Anasteria could not even recoil from the blow; her muscles were frozen solid. It was unfair to be in such a vulnerable position where she could not raise her hands in defense.

Holding her at her mercy for a moment longer, the older woman growled, "Where were you running to? Another man? I'd expect as much from filth like you. My Tasius did you a favor_! _If it weren't for him, you'd be shining those baubles your daddy makes."

With that last word, she let the spell go. Anasteria collapsed to the ground, on hands and knees as she struggled to breathe. Face reddening in defiance, she looked up at Elluine.

"You think Tasius did me a favor? Oh, if only you knew—" her words were cut off as the elder priestess seized her, physically holding her down this time.

"Let's get this clear, whore. I'm going to keep you locked up safe and sound until that child is born. After that, you can jump off the Spire for all I care. But until then, if I so much as suspect that you're being anything other than a kind and loving wife to my son, I will not hesitate to punish you." A bolt of pain shot up her spine as Elluine demonstrated an example of such a punishment.

* * *

Rowan's back was unbearably stiff when he woke the next morning. Eyes bleary with sleep, he looked over to see Donni humming cheerfully as she stirred a pot of something over the hearth. The woman wiped the bloodied blade of the cleaver on her skirt's hem before turning to chop vegetables with it, blonde hair bobbing as she brought the blade through a squash

"There's bucket of water for you to wash with," Donni said, not turning from her task.

Nodding, a gesture he later realized would go unnoticed, he scrubbed his face and hands. Slightly refreshed, he slowly rose to his feet and left the cabin. The sky was streaked with pink and yellow as the sun crested the nearby hilltops. The walls of Stormwind were almost visible beyond the thick line of trees. which made Rowan uneasy. Their proximity to the city could cause their plan to fail before it even started if a passing guardsman stopped by. Picking a sprig of wild mint to chew on, he waited for Ryalle. She woke him a few hours earlier, telling him that she would in the city to fetch supplies. Half-conscious, he'd dug through his bag and offered her a fistful of coins that were hopefully silvers, not golds.

When he suggested that they journey to Quel'thalas on foot, Ryalle simply told him that she "had a better idea." The human was surprisingly sympathetic to his cause, something that still left him with suspicion about why she chose to lend her help. Ryalle surely could not be risking so much just to see Rowan, a man who previously despised her, happy. Before they left, he would have to rule out the possibility that she could be a spy, or a bounty hunter.

As he mulled over the possible scenarios, two silhouettes emerged from the morning mist. The sight of _two _people caused him to bolt upright and reach for his daggers. Yet when the couple drew closer, he could plainly see that one was Ryalle and the other was a male. He drew back, wondering if he should slip into stealth and observe them before revealing his presence.

"Rowan!"

The thought diminished as Ryalle called his name. Clearly, he had already been seen. He simply stood, not moving forward to greet them or extend his hand to shake, as was human custom.

"Who is this?" he asked, passing a cursory glance over the man. _Not a guard, thank Elune. _

Though dressed in concealing brown robes, the man was extremely slight in form to the point of frailty. Dark close-cropped hair framed a young, yet old, face that told of a hard life through the faint lines at the corner of his eyes. The only decoration he wore was an ornately-linked silver chain that held an opalescent pendant.

"My name is Devren Marshall," he answered for Ryalle. "I am the assistant magister with Geoffrey's Portals. We transport clients to wherever they need to go. I was told I could be of some service?"

The mage's eyes darted nervously from Ryalle to Rowan. It must seem odd to the human that he pay a house call, rather than service his clients at this shop. The Night Elf kept his distance from the man as though he could burst into flames at any moment.His prim manner of speech, which almost bordered on haughty, stirred a mixture of annoyance and suspicion within the rogue.

"I thought you could only magick people to large cities." He wasn't going to let this Devren off the hook easily.

"Well, yes, we mostly _do _send people to the capital cities. But we are also able to transport them to more remote locations. It's not normally done, as it's a bit of a risky process. Our success rate, however, nearly outshadows any such risks," his voice lilted with that annoying tone all business men used. Cool and confident, aggressively persuasive.

"And I'm sure you have enough charisma to convince your patrons to buy a timeshare in Desolace, but I'd like to know what the risks are and how you're able to set up an accurate portal that'll take us where we need to go," Rowan said, standing close so that his tall form cast a shadow over the human's face. Ryalle noticed the purposefully intimidating stance and nudged her companion, mouthing "Stop it" as she pinched his side.

"Excuse us," she cut in, linking arms with Rowan and dragging him to a safe distance where they could talk.

"You didn't tell me that this was your plan, Ryalle. What makes you think you have the right?" he snarled as soon as they were out of earshot.

"Because you would've said it was too risky if I did!" she shot.

_She's right._ The plan was too risky and he would rather have walked through the Plaguelands to get to Quel'thalas. But it was presumptive of her to go over his head and bring Devren along. He studied her face, searching for any hint of subterfuge. It was time to confront her about the fear that wracked his mind for the past few days.

"Are you planning to betray me?" Rowan asked, an almost imperceptible shake to his voice.

"Why would you ever think that, Ro?"

Ro. The only person who had ever called him that was Vorena. The searing memory of her being butchered by Tasius sparked a flame of anger deep within him that cried out for vengeance. In a single day, his one friend, along with the love of his life, were stolen and he wanted nothing more than to take revenge on the bastard.

"I don't know what to think, because you won't tell me the real reason why you're helping me. Yes, I get it. You loved once, but what does that even mean? I've played along enough, Ryalle. Either you tell me what's going on, or I walk away."

With an annoyed snort, she conceded, "Alright, fine. But what about him?" She gestured to Devren. The mage was already mopping the moisture off his face as the day grew warm.

"As long as he thinks he's going to get coin off of us, he'll stick around. Leeches tend to do that."

Ryalle rolled her eyes and turned to lead the old man into the cabin for a drink. She returned with a small knapsack that would have been plain, but for a strange symbol imprinted onto the canvas. A harlequin mask being shattered by arrows with a raven in the background. The crest, from what he could drudge up from his patchy memory about the less-familiar Horde races, was the uniting symbol of The Forsaken. Her brown eyes were locked onto him, trying to gauge his reaction before she went further.

"Open it," was all he said.

She pulled out a small music box and handed it to him. It was a delicate little thing, etched with a swirling pattern of gold leaf on the lid. It's craftsman spent must have spent days perfecting each curve of the wooden box, for it was truly a masterpiece.

"After my run-ins with the law in Stormwind, I decided that I really needed to get away that city. Too much history. I got a job as a laundress in Ambermill, way over in Silverpine Forest. Such a shit job it was. My hands would blister from washing the robes of those Dalaran brats and I worked just about every day of the week. Once in a while, we'd get attacked by a few Undead fighters—who would usually get picked off pretty quickly. Not much I can say, 'cept I met one of them and we fell in love."

Rowan did his best to hide his revulsion at the thought of such a pairing. He had seen a few Undead soldiers from his time at Ashenvale and he could only recall how badly they smelled. Who could ever come to love _that_? Though..love was love. He had mistaken Ryalle for a simple-minded bar wench, but she led a life of many adventures, as well as professions.

His golden eyes fixed on her as he spoke, "So your devotion to this.. Undead fellow.. is so strong that you're willing to go through this much to help me? That still sounds off."

"He gave me this music box. It was the last thing he owned from his old life. He gave it to me because it was more than apparent that we would never be able to be happy. We were so unalike that our love couldn't even compensate for that difference. This is the only thing I have to remind myself that there is one person in all of Azeroth that will always remember me with such love," her eyes glistened as she said the last sentence.

"And?" Rowan prompted. Ryalle was slipping into that all too familiar ridiculous side of her that elaborated without addressing the point at hand.

"Do I have to spell it out for you?" she said hotly. "I want to go back to him. Every day that I'm without him, I regret it. It's been years and no man has ever been so loving and gentle as Roderick was. I have to tell him that, at least. When you go to Quel'thalas, I'll make my way to Ghostlands. If he is where I think he is, we'll be together once more."

A baffled expression crossed his face as he asked, "Why didn't you just tell me that? I don't see how that's such a big deal, especially considering my situation."

"You used to spy at the An'daroth camp, didn't you?" He nodded, and she hesitated before speaking, "Well.. he joined The Forsaken's expedition in Ghostlands. There's no doubt that he's been among the forces who have launched attacks on your Night Elf camps there. I just thought that since he's probably killed more than one of your comrades, you wouldn't be happy to know about my story."

As she said this, Rowan realized that he was so used to being around men and women with some sort of a military background—even in the Assassin's Guild. Ryalle was just an everyday person. She didn't realize that Rowan couldn't begrudge someone who was following the orders of their superiors. It was Anasteria's job to heal the Horde forces at Splintertree, just as it was his job to kill them. Yet they both fell in love.

Rubbing his eyes wearily, he spoke, "I'll do this portal thing on one condition. If I catch you withholding any more information, whatever it might be, that's relevant to this plan, I will leave you in the dust. You might have the skills to make plans, but you'll need me to get around that area."

"Deal," she said, pressing her hand to her heart to seal the promise. Rowan was touched at her use of the Night Elf custom instead of the human handshake.

"So then we leave tonight?" he asked.

"We leave immediately."

* * *

_A/N: Whew, this chapter has been re-written so many times. I'm sorry it's taken so long to update this story! I promise I'll keep my nose to the grindstone and put out chapters a little more frequently. )_

_Racoonattack: Oh yeah, I've been meaning to get to fixing the format of the story for weeks now. I've merged two chapters and re-did the dialogue so it's more readable. Thanks for the comments!_

_Forlorne: Don't forget those awesome paper umbrellas. D_

_Sgtsquirrel: Thank you. It's always an amazing feeling to know that people enjoy my stuff._

_Justin9820: I'm so happy that you like what I've got going so far!_

_Wisethunder: I inspired you? I think that's the most flattering thing anyone's ever said to me! Thank you so much for leaving a review! I can't wait to check out your story. _


	17. Goodbye, Rowan

**Goodbye, Rowan**

* * *

Elluine locked Anasteria in the old maid's quarters, leaving her to pass the hours staring up at the water-stained ceiling. It was a dismal room that had long ago been converted into storage space. Even the boxes of Winter Veil decorations didn't liven up the drab room, instead making it seem even more cluttered and disorganized . Her mind wandered to what excuse Elluine must have told Tasius as her reason for moving his wife from he guest room. _The crickets were keeping her up at night. _Or perhaps _I don't want to anyone creating a fuss over her when she needs rest. _It was all the same either way. Her husband would undoubtedly nod and commend his mother on the selfless care with which he tended his poor fragile wife. The thought of such an exchange only worsened her already rampant nausea and she stumbled toward the window for a breath of fresh air.

When it was certain that the window would never budge, she laid down, feeling utterly defeated. It was a constant up-and-down. She would gather enough courage to rebel, only to be quickly subdued and shoved back into place. It was heartbreaking—no, infuriating. To lie at the mercy of her mother-in-law was worse than humiliating, it was completely degrading. As a student, Anasteria was in awe of Elluine. She had wanted nothing more than to please her professor and learn everything there was to know about healing and shadow magic. _Look where my enthusiasm got me._

As she mulled over her current state, there was a soft knock at the door. A moment later, Tasius stepped into the room. Elluine had been clever with her new prison. The door was enchanted such that only the elder priestess and her son were able enter, while Anasteria was locked in. The bloodknight closed the distance between them, seating himself on the stool beside her bed. To his credit, his eyes were awash with concern and tenderness.

Cupping her cheek in his rough hands, he said, "You look so thin, my dearest. Have you not been eating?"

An unnatural wave of despair tore through Anasteria. Her moods had become liquid these days, leaving her enraged one moment and weeping the next. Embarrassment tore through her as she fought to hold back tears. She wanted to explain to Tasius that her moods were nearly out of her control, but she could only tremble as she tried to stifle a sob. Leaning forward, he pulled her into a tight embrace, nuzzling her neck with his cheek. At that moment, she felt herself almost fall in love with him again. Despite his naivety, Tasius was not like his mother. Despite all the times she ignored his affections and waved his gifts away, he was still compassionate and loving.

"Please, Ana. Tell me what's wrong," he murmured against her skin.

He didn't expect her to reply, but was stunned when he heard a whisper escape her lips, "You would be furious with me if I did."

Sitting up, he brushed the tears from her face with his thumb, "I've never given you cause to fear me, love. Please, just tell me what happened. Tell me why you're so unhappy with this marriage."

There was nothing she could lose by telling him now. She was going to be kept prisoner here for eight months and it wouldn't matter if Tasius knew that she never wanted to marry him. But could she tell him about Rowan? At this point, sitting in a cell at the Sunfury Spire was no worse than her present situation. _Best not to bring him into this if Tasius wants revenge, _she thought.

"Tasius, I never wanted to come home from Ashenvale," her eyes didn't meet his gaze.

Nearly cutting her off, he burst, "Are you mad? You were being held captive there!"

"I was doing my job. For one day, I was able to use my years of learning. Remember when you worked for the ambassador in Undercity? You hadn't set foot on the battlefield and I knew how much you yearned for it. I had the same yearning, Tasius. Your purpose was always to fight for our people, as was mine. When we returned, that dream was taken from me. With father disowning me, I could never have afforded to return to the academy. I had _nowhere _to go. There was no choice, but for me to marry you," She expected him to lose his temper and storm off, but he appeared calm. A thoughtful expression crossed his face as, it seemed, her words seem to finally put the pieces together for him. It was the first honest thing she had said to him in months and an intangible burden lifted from her.

It was a long while before he spoke, but when he did, she nearly wanted to take it all back. There was true _pain_ in his eyes. "I took you away from the only thing you ever wanted to be, didn't I?" He didn't wait for her to continue, "I know I did that, Ana. Maybe not at the time, but later on. My mother.. she used you. I thought I was keeping you safe. I promised myself that I would protect and love you, no matter what."

"Then let me go back." She couldn't even believe her own words at that point. They flowed out of her as if she were delirious.

"Did you ever truly love me, Ana?" Tasius asked. He didn't care if he was sidestepping the topic, he had the right to know.

She made to speak, but paused. _My bloodknight in shining armor_. She had once called him that. There was a time where her heart would quicken at the sight of him, where she dreamed of running her hands through that flame-red hair. After they married, a part of her still held that sort of love. When they visited the marketplace, she would see how her husband caught the eye of women around him—married or not. Not only was he remarkably handsome, he was gentle and loving. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that one fatal flaw prevented them from ever being happy with each other. Fate was cruel mistress.

"Yes," she spoke at last. "I did. But when you and your mother betrayed me, I lost that trust..the biggest part of me that blindly loved you faded away. I knew how sincere you were when you apologized and I _tried_ to believe that you would never do it again, but you did. Except this time, you've betrayed our son to her as well."

Tasius suddenly pulled away from her, as if he just realized he had been embracing a hissing Naga. A muscle in his jaw tightened as he struggled to restrain his anger. "I am not under my mother's thumb, if that is what you're suggesting. How could you even say that? She learned her lesson and you, for some reason, cannot let it go! What will you have me do, Anasteria?" She nearly shrank back at the harsh way he spoke her name. But he pressed on, "You have never granted her, nor me, an ounce of forgiveness. Do you really think everyone is out to betray and misuse you? Does it look like I've done that?" He gestured to her blue silk gown. "I've taken care of you. My mother has been in here several times a day to take care of you, yet you sit here and sulk about betrayal."

The conversation had obviously turned down the wrong path and although Anasteria desperately wanted him to understand her position, he would never budge if she put him on the defensive. _Gods forbid anyone disrespect his precious mother. _Sighing, she started again, "I'm sorry. I have been a little short lately. I'm just afraid, Tasius. You know your mother can be meddlesome. Please, don't be so sharp with me."

Despite her fury at how stupidly he fell to his mother's machinations, Anasteria forced a look of convincing sincerity onto her face. The only way to reason with Tasius would be to allow him to feel dominant. Continuing her theatrics, she reached across to clasp his hand, letting her hand brush discreetly against his groin. His whole body stiffened at her touch, his green eyes raking her body with a lustful stare.

Ever the gentleman, he composed himself before speaking, "It's alright darling. I know you've struggled these past weeks.." he fingered the hem of her gown absent-mindedly, "as have I."

Anasteria sat up and took her husband into her arms, running her tongue along the sweet spot in his neck that made him growl in pleasure. Lifting her chin, he pressed his lips to hers and kissed her, a groan rising from his throat as their tongues danced together. As he dipped his head to nip at her chest, she pulled back slowly.

"I've missed your bed," she breathed. A flush of shame reddened her face as she realized that his touches were setting her flesh ablaze with desire. But she could not succumb to her body's natural response to him. Not before she succeeded in protecting her son in the only way she knew how at this point.

"I've missed you in it," His gaze flicked to her barely-distended stomach. "If we.. it won't hurt the baby, will it?"

"No, my love," she whispered. Shifting so that she sat on his lap, she wrapped her legs around his hips, gently pushing him back onto the bed. White-hot pleasure seared him as she straddled him, reaching down to unfasten his belt. Tasius had never taken his wife in such a position and her adventurousness only heightened his hunger. It had been so many weeks since they last made love and the thought of burying himself deep within her drove him mad.

A smirk tugged at the corner of her lip as Anasteria felt her husband shiver beneath her. Her lack of affection for him had paid off as he readily accepted her advances. The gentle glow of his eyes was replaced by a blaze of emerald as he pulled open his trousers. Placing her hands on his wrists, she held them in place with a gentle grip.

"I don't know if we should keep going, Tasius," she said softly. It was time for her to put her plan to test. The result would tell her whether or not he had a shred of trust in Anasteria's judgment over their child. Her husband's temper had a habit of returning as quickly as it left and she had to be careful with how she handled the situation. _Make him want you enough to do what you ask. _

"Why not.." he breathed, sitting up so he could nibble at her collar bone. She had driven him so far, he refused to back down at whatever mindless worry she was about to dole out. It wouldn't harm her or the child, thus, there was no reason to stop now.

"I'm worried about our son." Anasteria wrapped her hand around his cock as she spoke, stroking it with torturously slow rhythm.

He was more worried about getting her clothes off, but he held his tongue. Through gritted teeth, he asked, "Why do you worry?"

"Many reasons. Can I ask you for an oath, Tasius. For the sake of our son's future?" She nuzzled his neck, brushing her lips against his earlobe. His heart was racing and she knew that he couldn't hold off much longer.

"Fine," he growled. He tugged at the sash around her waist and the silken robe fell open. The sight of her supple curves made his breath hitch. Her body was without a single flaw and he yearned to explore every bit of it until they both collapsed into each other arms from exhaustion.

She continued, "Promise me that you will raise him to be a paladin."

Here they were, in the throes of passion, and she was babbling on about what class their son should be? A primal urge from deep within commanded him to simply take her, but he could never do that to his wife. Despite the painful truth that she did not love him, he would die before causing her such shame and hurt.

Sighing, he considered her words. "I will promise that on one condition." She arched and expectant brow, then he continued, "I will make sure he becomes whatever you wish as long as you're always by my side. I want to raise our son together."

_No, _she wanted to shriek. Though she previously acknowledged Tasius as a permanent fixture in her life, the thought of growing old with him now sickened her with dread. Years of battles with Elluine for her son's destiny, years of trying to be civil to Tasius. She would go insane before long.

Yet there was no other choice. She would be safe from Elluine if she stayed in Tasius' bed. Her son would be safe from the priestess' manipulative tendencies as well. Such security came at a cost that Anasteria considered almost too great. Any hope of a future with Rowan would be out of the picture if she agreed to Tasius' terms. It was all she could do to weep in frustration. True, she could go against her word and run away with their son, but even that seemed too cruel a punishment. _I've made my own bed, now I have to lie in it._

"I promise,"

"As do I," he murmured.

* * *

_A/N: Kay, I don't want any complaining about what happened here. IT'S A TOTALLY NECESSARY STEP! XD I wanted to expand more on the relationship between Tasius and Anasteria. I felt that Tasius was being made to look more like the pathetic pawn (which, to some extent, he is) of his mother and I wanted to flesh him out a little more. He's not a bad guy. Just...misguided? XD_

_**Sgtsquirrel: **Meh, I was gonna go with Troll, but thought that Undead seemed a little more probable location-wise. Plus, The Forsake are metal (google that; first result)._

_**Libello: **Thank you so much for the lovely words! I'm absolutely grateful to all the people who have taken time to leave a review. Every little bit means a lot. )_

_**Ariesgirl6: **I like your suggestion! But, Anasteria is having a son. As you can tell after reading this chapter, the gender of the baby plays an important role--for Anasteria, Tasius..and Rowan. Thanks for reviewing!!  
_


	18. Silvermoon

**Silvermoon**

* * *

Clothes were stuffed into the rucksack unfolded, followed by an assortment of Rowan's finest weapons: daggers, throwing knives, an old sword with a slightly warped hilt, and a bow. The dull points of his lockpicks and thieves' tools jutted out against the rough canvas sack, poking his back as he pulled the straps over his shoulders. Ryalle insisted that he not waste time folding clothes, but the feeling of wadded cloth pressed against his body half-tempted him to overturn the sack and repack everything until it was perfect. True, his weapons were by far the most valuable of his possessions, but there was no need to crumple perfectly good clothing. Rowan groaned inwardly at the thought of the hours he would have to spend cleaning, straightening, and mending the garments later on.

Devren, initially apprehensive at the request for the two to be sent to Silvermoon, gradually loosened up as his own excited chatter brought him to the realization that he was conducting a spell—an experiment—that his colleagues had never done. There would be no congratulatory party when it was over with, but he swelled with satisfaction at the thought of being the first to attempt such a feat.

"And, by far the most important note, once I cast the portal, I cannot re-open it in the same area," He spoke animatedly, his thumb and index finger pinched together as he enunciated those last words. It was becoming increasingly hard to pay attention to everything that was being said. Devren's rapid Common sped out of his mouth faster than a mine cart heading downhill on greased rails.

"Why not?" Rowan interrupted. Though he had no desire to return, his curiosity got the best of him.

Sucking his breath through his teeth, Devren said hastily, "It's.. rather tricky why I can't. You see, it's really forbidden to open portals to Horde territories. When the portal is cast, mages in the area actually sense the magical residue that is left behind. Most aren't advanced enough to divine that the source of the portal was drawn by one not of their faction, but some can. If I can open the portal and get you two through it quickly, it should cut down on the amount of residual magic. As for location..that's an entirely different story."

He nodded in response, trying to make sense of what the mage just said. Magic was definitely not his specialty and the amount of trust he had to invest in Ryalle and Devren made him uneasy. How was he going to find Anasteria anyway? Asking around town was obviously not an option. An inkling of an idea formed in his mind as he considered the question.

It was Devren's turn to interrupt his train of thoughts. "What I'm essentially saying is.. I could really only offer you safe passage one-way, given the dangerous nature of this experiment. Your return journey would have to be completed through some other means."

Rowan shrugged with indifference, but anger flashed across Ryalle's countenance and she rose from her chair in protest, letting her own rucksack roll to the floor.

"We're paying you for a two-way trip, Mr. Marshall! How dare you double the price, you babbling idiot," she hissed, cheeks flushing red with rage.

The mage's eyes darted to Rowan in an unspoken plea for him to calm her down. When he realized that no help would be offered, the man cleared his throat nervously, "For this extraordinary feat of magic, I'm afraid that the price must remain as it is. I'm risking my own personal safety and reputation by opening such a portal in unfriendly lands," he paused, "Also, I'm sure it's a small price to ask for maintaining confidentiality."

_A bribe, _thought Rowan. It wasn't completely unreasonable to ask, yet Ryalle looked ready to strangle the man. Deciding that it was in their best interests for her to keep her mouth shut, he cut her off.

"He has a point. We'll be able to do our _business _and get home on our own." He hoped that she would take the hint and cease her arguments.

"Why can't you just open a portal at a set of coordinates further away?" she asked, not quite ready to part with her money if she didn't have to.

Annoyed, the mage finally let his temper overtake him, "Mages do _not _deal in this absurd system of coordinates. Portals aren't compatible with some arbitrary man-made system of measurement! It would be impossible to determine where you are once you enter the portal, thus, I would have no way of even knowing. The only reason I can even cast a portal to Silvermoon is that I visited there many years ago. The offer stands. If you cannot compensate me for my services, then I shall be on my way."

The human's shrill voice was enough to make the sound of screeching harpies sound like a sweet birdsong. Rowan rose, placing himself between the two before blows were exchanged. It was time to end their ridiculous argument before Ryalle said, or did, something she might regret. Devren's hands were on his hips, as if expecting even more opposition from the night elf.

Placing a firm hand on the human's shoulder, Rowan asked the question that had been in the back of his mind for the past hour, "Your price is fair enough, but will you be able to teleport us to a safe place within the city? I'm not too keen on being portaled to the top of the Sunfury Spire or between two guards."

The frown diminished from the man's face, transforming into a grim line as he pursed his lips. "The only safeguard against such a thing would be to open the portal outside of city walls. There's no guarantee that you won't run into guards, but the risk is significantly less than going directly into the city."

"Let's do it."

* * *

Ryalle slammed her half of the two hundred gold fee onto the table before them. After a careful count of the gold, Devren opened the door and beckoned the pair outside. It was now afternoon and humidity was at its peak, enveloping them in a sticky sweat. It was a wonder that Donni seemed unbothered by the weather, using her cleaver to collect bundles of herbs from the garden. She rose, brushing her hands on her apron, and came over.

The women exchanged hugs and goodbyes while Rowan waited impatiently. The sooner he could reach Anasteria, the better. He revisited his earlier plan of how he was going to find her. It was definitely more feasible than checking every house in Silvermoon, but it had risks as well. To be certain of her location would require scrying—something which he was obviously not skilled in. If he were to journey with Ryalle to the Ghostlands, he could locate the camps of Night Elves he used to serve with. Presenting himself as a returning spy, it wouldn't be hard to convince one of them to locate her using the moonstone. The elven spies were highly trained in divination, which allowed them to observe the Sin'dorei from so far away. For missions that required close quarters , rogues were sent in. A tale about a blood elf female suspected of harboring sensitive documents would be more than sufficient to persuade his former comrades. _Rogues work alone. _It was a common philosophy that would safeguard against any questions or follow-ups from the camp.

Donni gave Ryalle a final squeeze before approaching Rowan. Her sunny blonde hair was pulled back into a messy bun that made her look slightly more crazed than usual. Pulling him into a tight embrace, which he reciprocated with an awkward pat on the back, she whispered.

"Always pray to the Gods."

He wanted to roll his eyes at her. _What are you? My mother? _A brief memory of his mother's stern visage flashed through his mind. Ever pious, she would drag Rowan to the shrines twice a day when he was a boy. She hoped that he would enter the priesthood, or become a druid, but was less than happy to content herself with a son who backstabbed people for a living. Years passed since they last spoke, both not minding the lack of communication.

Nodding, he released her and turned to Ryalle. The barmaid's face wasn't as sullen as it had been earlier, but she still bore some resentment at their current state. She clutched the straps of her pack with both hands and watched as Devren readied the area. The mage picked a barren spot in the forest, where he used his staff to trace a circle into the mud.

"The circle constricts the portal to a set size," he explained as he sprinkled white powder around its edges. "The powder acts as a buffer to prevent any of the magicks from escaping. Without it, the portal would collapse from lack of energy." He fished around in his robes, then pulled out a small stone. "Here is the most essential ingredient: the rune. It's basically the engine. I infuse it with my powers and it delivers you to the location I specify."

Ryalle yawned theatrically as the mage went on to explain the mechanics of spellcraft. "When you were talking about risks, did you forget to mention the very real possibility that we might die of boredom from your prattle?"

The mage shrugged and returned to his work with the circle. Completed, it was a work of art. Symbols were traced within the ring and Rowan could almost feel the magical energies glowing from them. Devren stood outside the border, taking the rune into the palm of his hand.

"Alright. When the portal opens, go in immediately. Nothing bad will happen. You might.. well.. nevermind. Just go straight in."

With that said, he raised his hands in front of him. The rune was suspended in the air, glowing a fierce shade of yellow before crumbling to dust. Particles from the rune rushed toward them, re-forming into a large oval. The portal appeared then, it's entrance a mix of purples and blues swimming together. Rowan shut his eyes tightly and moved toward the entrance. Ryalle snatched his hand in hers, nails digging into his palm.

The experience that followed could only be described as a nauseating nightmare. Colors marbled together in a dizzying blur as they hurtled through the portal. Vertigo and fear were the only things Rowan was able to feel at that moment. Every unrealistic worry penetrated his mind. What if they were stranded within the portal forever? What if the portal kills them?

Just as his mind began to transform those fears into undeniable truths, something happened. The vertigo, along with the dancing colors, subsided. A faraway image of a forest at dusk materialized slowly before them, drawing closer until it swallowed them whole. Feeling grass beneath his boots was the most joyous event he could recount, short of meeting Anasteria. He looked over to see Ryalle crouched on the ground, vomiting. _You might..well..puke your brains out. _That was what Devren had meant to say before opening the portal.

"I'll be fine," she groaned, one hand clutched at her stomach as she heaved.

Rowan studied their surroundings, his eyes scanning the area for any sign of familiarity. The city's white stone walls shimmered in the distance, gold domes and spires forming a grand cityscape. A sigh of relief escaped him. The mage transported them to the most perfectly remote area of Silvermoon.

Kneeling beside Ryalle, he offered his arm to steady her. She took it gratefully, allowing him to slowly rise until they were both standing. Over the past few days, he had grown fond of the woman. A small pang of guild bit at his conscience at the indifference he treated her with before she saved him. She had no reason to be kind to him, yet she was. It touched him that she offered her help to him when he needed it most. Without her, he'd have been cuffed and left to rot in a cell for eons.

"Do you recognize where we are?" Ryalle asked, relinquishing her hold on his arm.

"Yes, actually. We're just south of Silvermoon. If we keep heading the other way, we'll be at Ghostlands in a few hours."

* * *

Rowan was used to forests, but the eternal beauty of Eversong Woods always left him with a sense of unease. The trees shed leaves that never touched the ground, instead fluttering gracefully in the air where they disappeared when no one was looking. It was a magical forest that surrounded a magical city. Everything was perfect, but it could never be called _natural. _The forest wasn't alive like it was in his homeland. There was no ecosystem that developed over millennia where a natural pyramid of predator and prey took root. Lynxes, bunnies, and dragonhawks all seemed as if they were deliberately placed there like zoo exhibits. Had Arthas left Quel'thalas untouched, the woods would be without a single flaw. The Dead Scar, evidence of the Scourge's ongoing battle, was like a hare lip on the face of a maiden.

As the landscape shifted from the brilliant orange glow of Eversong to the dank gloom of Ghostlands, night began to fall. Nighttime in the Ghostlands unleashed the spiders, ghosts, and other creatures that carried multiple appendages for sucking life and blood from their victims. As they trudged through the thick mud of the forest floor, the sound of a sword being unsheathed sent the hairs on his neck straight up. He wheeled around, coming face to face with a pair of fiery green eyes.

"Should I kill you now and enjoy your woman later, or would you like me to start with her first?"

The words, possibly meant to scare Rowan, only made him snort as he tried to contain the laughter that rippled through him at the sound of the voice. A light airy tenor whose bearer most likely just left adolescence rang out in the quiet forest. The poor lad was probably in need of some adventure, it was unfortunate for him that his first encounter would be with a skilled rogue. His eyes were the only visible trait beneath clunky iron armor, but Rowan was certain that the boy's chin still contained the soft stubble of his first beard. Ryalle squeaked and shrank behind him, her fingers laced together as she watched the altercation, unable to understand what was being said.

"I think you should save your virginity for somewhere a little more romantic than the Ghostlands, boy," he unsheathed both of his daggers, their blades glinted green off the phosphorous glow of the forest floor. "I also think you should turn yourself around and pretend you didn't see us before I cut off your fingers and feed them to you."

The young elf growled and charged at him, raising his sword high with both hands. It was an arrogant move that all young paladins, Horde or Alliance, opened with. As he brought the blade above his head, ready to strike, Rowan lunged at him. He pushed both thumbs into the blood elf's eyes, causing the boy to scream and let go of his sword. The weapon fell behind him as he grabbed at Rowan's hands, trying to pry them off. It was a simple rogue tactic that worked easily on inexperienced swordsmen who were slow with a blade. _Go for the eyes. _

With his sword on the ground, the boy was no longer a threat. The young elf cursed and howled from the pain to a such a degree that Rowan felt a tinge of compassion. Grabbing him by the throat, he landed a single blow to the paladin's temple. His body slumped to the ground instantly, landing right next to his weapon.

Turning to a now terrified Ryalle, he said, "Let's go. He'll wake up in a few hours."

"Why didn't you kill him? He'll report what he's seen the instant he wakes up!" she shrieked.

"Report what he's seen? I dug my thumbs into his eyes, Ryalle. By the time they get any information out of him, we'll be long gone." He paused, adding, "Speaking of which, where are we headed to?"

"I believe Roderick is still working in Tranquillien. He's a healer for The Forsaken's small clinic."

_We're both in love with healers. _It was an odd thing to have in common. Rowan grimaced as he looked down at his boots. He had forgotten the hours he spent scrubbing the thick phosphorescent sludge off his boots when he was stationed at An'daroth. Rogues couldn't go leaving muddy footprints behind when they were sent into the city to "dispose" of Sin'dorei dignitaries. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to brush off the cobwebs that were beginning to accumulate in his thick hair.

"Well, we're almost at the outskirts. How are you planning on getting his attention?" he asked.

She paused thoughtfully, "The clinic faces open forest. It shouldn't be hard for me to take a quick look without being seen."

"No," he said firmly. "You tell me what he looks like, I'll go check."

"You should be heading to An'daroth. I'll be fine, Ro."

Ryalle knew he wouldn't budge, despite her protests. She put her life in his hands the moment they appeared in Quel'thalas and he hadn't let her down. Rowan was becoming a better friend to her than she ever expected. The only friends she ever had were the other girls at the tavern, but that type of friendship was out of necessity and security. Seldom did they confide in one another, except to warn of certain clients who bore rashes or sores "down there."

They continued on in silence for the final stretch to Tranquillien. Decrepit buildings, their roofs crumbled inward, were grim reminders of how relentless The Scourge were in their onslaught against the High Elves. An impenetrable sorrow seized Rowan as he drew nearer to the devastation. They didn't have to be his people for him to feel sadness at the incredible loss of life. When Prince Kael'thas returned to see his father slain and his homeland reduced to rubble, he turned his back on the Alliance. _The Alliance failed my people,_ he claimed. Looking at the ruins of Tranquillien, Rowan could understand the prince's frustration and anger, even if it was misguided.

"That looks like it," Ryalle whispered, pointing to one of the few buildings that still bore a roof. She gave a rushed description of Roderick, hoping that her memory served well enough to define his features. It had been so long. What if his face changed?

A rickety medic's wagon was parked outside the entrance, filled with bloodied rags and other refuse. Ryalle wrinkled her nose at the pungent smell of sickness and decay, opting to breathe out of her mouth before she felt the urge to be sick again. Vomiting twice in one day would certainly be an unlucky thing.

Setting his pack down, Rowan pulled the thick cloak over himself and slipped into the shadows. He decided it best to enter through the back entrance, in case there were guards. A fire blazed in the small pit at the center of the high-ceilinged circular room. Mats were set up close to the fire, keeping patients close to warmth and light. At the far corner, a medic jotted notes into a half-burnt journal. _Dark red hair, light skin, golden eyes, and a scar just above his jaw. _It certainly was him. The Undead man hobbled toward the next patient, where he turned a page and began a new set of notes. He certainly wasn't the most appalling thing Rowan had ever beheld, but those decayed features held nothing that could even remotely be described as handsome or pleasant.

Whatever attraction Ryalle held for him wasn't any of his business, he decided. Anasteria loved him, despite his coarse, unrefined features. _Shela namahra _was the term the Sin'dorei sometimes used for his people. Low-born. Next to her beauty, he couldn't help but feel a bit lowly. He let his mind wander on that subject as he walked back to their hiding place.

"It's him," he said in response to her expectant look.

A barely-muffled shriek of joy escaped her lips and she threw her arms around Rowan. _Second awkward hug of the day. _

"Do you want me to wait?" He glanced upward at the moon. It was unlikely that he would reach An'daroth tonight.

"No," she said, arms still around him. "I'll be just fine. You go ahead toward the camp. If you need to contact me, write a letter and address it to Roderick Darkfallow."

Nodding, he fetched her pack from the ground and handed it to her. "Ande'thoras-ethil."

She smirked, "I'm going to hope that you didn't just curse my dead grandmother or anything."

"I'm just a rogue. We can't curse anyone," he said.

Ryalle squeezed his hand gently, warmed by the genuine humility he showed. A shadow of guilt passed over her at the temptation she had felt back at the inn to turn him over to night elves. He had been so cold to her before then and the reward being offered was, to say the least, substantial.

"We'll see each other again. I want to meet your woman, after all," she smiled.

And so they said their goodbyes, each heading in the opposite direction—Rowan to An'daroth and Ryalle to Tranqullien. As the elf disappeared into the forest, searching for a place to spend the night, a faint shadow trailed him, holding back a few yards away. The shadow wanted to be certain of the elf's identity, lest it strike down an innocent comrade.

Yes, the face _was_ recognizable.

* * *

_A/N: So sorry for taking a long time to get that out. Life. Need I say more?_

_**Evdog: **Since chapter one? Without sounding cliche, I'm truly touched that you enjoy my story and as long as you, and others continue to read it, I'll be more than happy to write chapters for it! :)_

_**Glass Mermaid: **Powerful criticism there and I see your concerns. The trouble with having a plot totally mapped out in my mind is that when I write, I tend to want to skip to the next part of the story without taking the right amount of time to give adequate introduction to my characters. Thank you for honest words, I'll try to do better._

_**Escalus: **Yes, she has friends (as many of us do), but contemplating escape with the unborn child of one's husband isn't something that is always taken the right way. I guess I can only answer your question with a, "We'll see." Thank you for reviewing!_

_**Wisethunder: **Endings are really my weakness. It's always so hard to find the right words to tie up a scene. Usually, it helps for me to write the entire chapter and leave things alone for a few days before concluding it. Another thing I recommend is just..relaxing and reading other books. Sometimes it helps to get lost in another story. :) (And please do NOT shoot yourself, not even with an airsoft rifle..I'd be sad)_

_**She-ninja: **I have it too! One day, I'll come across someone in real life who understands the reference..I hope. Hope you enjoyed this chapter. It's full of Rowan!_

_**Sgtsquirrel: **Well, I can firmly say that he's not a gigantic part of the story. Our two lovers are. But he does have a place in the story later on, and he won't be a poor sap who falls on his sword later on._

_**Shinryu-Twilight Dragon:** Belfs/Nelfs/Draenei are my three favorite races! Thanks for your review! I loved hearing what you thought of the characters, and I promise, Anasteria will take her revenge. :)_


	19. No Fair Fights

**No Fair Fights**

* * *

Rowan awoke several times that night, unable to find a comfortable spot on the damp earth to settle into. It wasn't just the aching in his muscles that made sleep so elusive, but something else. He wagered a lot on the assumption that Anasteria would be willing to leave with him when he went to rescue her. What if she was happy with her life? The worries tore at him relentlessly, making any hopes for a peaceful rest impossible. Sitting up, he pushed the thin blanket aside and rummaged through his rucksack until he felt the silken material brush against his fingertips. It was the last thing he had that proved she wasn't just a dream.

Even the starless night couldn't obscure the beautiful garment. Gazing in awe at the robes that Anasteria had once worn, he unfolded them and inhaled the scent. After Tasius torched the camp, Rowan managed to salvage it from the ashes. He spent hours washing the mud and grime out of them, taking extra care to mend the snagged hem. Just as he was about to raise the material to his nose once more, a voice spoke so close that he felt a puff of breath tickle his ear.

"Please tell me you aren't going to put that on or anything," it said softly, a hint of disgust in its androgynous voice.

Color fled from his face at the unexpected intrusion, causing him to nearly drop the cloth into the muck below. Cursing, Rowan reached for his blades, but they weren't at his side. He paused, trying to slow his thoughts down enough to remember where he last put them. Were they in his pack? His back was still to the intruder who, surprisingly, hadn't spoken or moved from its place. It was then that Rowan realized that if the stranger wanted to kill him, he already would already have done so—quite easily. A knife to the back felt long overdue and he turned slightly, daring to meet his possible attacker.

The stranger chuckled, or it seemed to at least. The sound that came from its masked owner was flat, devoid of any characteristics that could identify it as male or female. It stood before him, a complete silhouette except for a pair of smoldering violet eyes that peered back. The moisture left his mouth as he stared at the captivating eyes, unable to speak. Something about the elf was menacing, but there was no indication that he was in danger. At least, not yet.

Forcing himself to swallow, he rasped, "Who are you?"

Another mirthless laugh shot from the stranger. "You don't remember my face?"

He frowned at the question. Even if the speaker weren't masked, the darkness obscured any facial details that might help him remember. The only way such a question would make sense would be if the mask were its actual face. He chanced another look at the stranger, forcing his eyes to take in any details that might help him remember. The unnatural amethyst orbs that blazed were set high into the chrome faceplate, resembling a skull. Hair-thin slits were cut vertically along the mouth area for breathing, as well as two notches for the nose. There _was _something familiar about the skull-mask.

"Very well," the voice interrupted as Rowan's mind ventured on the correct path. "I shall tell you. I was stationed in the camp adjacent to yours."

"Vane?" he spoke after some time. "I thought you were.."

"Dead?" it completed. "Sorry, no. I merely..decided to take a sabbatical while on a mission. I don't know why they would assume that I died. It's frankly kind of offensive."

Vane's words confused Rowan, more in their intonation than their content. At varying points, its voice would sound feminine, while at other times it was almost certainly masculine. He clearly remembered the alleged death of Vane. The details regarding it were fuzzy at best, but they revolved around kidnap and murder.

Squaring his shoulders, Rowan asked, "Why are you here?"

Another chuckle was its only response. As the seconds passed, more information relevant to Vane returned to his memory. The soldiers, at one time, took bets on the sex of the elf who never removed its mask. From what he could remember, the rogue was scarce around the camps, reporting back every month or so. The soldiers bemoaned Vane's death when they realized that they would never be able to profit from their wagers.

"You're a wanted man, Rowan Starfire," Vane said matter-of-factly.

Rowan willed his face to remain composed as he thought through the situation. Should he run? Perhaps a bribe would be smarter, yet even that option seemed futile. There was another rumor about the elf that he hoped, at least for now, wasn't true. It was said that the rogue was a hired blade, owing his allegiance to whoever paid for it. A lump rose in his throat. He might have had a chance if he weren't defenseless.

"No," it answered his thoughts simply. "I've no quarrel with you. Be thankful that I spotted you before anyone else did. Hasn't anyone ever told you that forests aren't safe at night? Especially not for fugitives."

"I'm here to use the scrying orb. I need it to track a band of—"

Vane snorted softly. "Please. I don't want to hear whatever excuse you're about to dish out to me like I was born last century. I'm here to make you a deal. We're both.. in a precarious situation. I'm technically a deserter and I don't suppose they would be so happy to see a dead man return to camp. I can help you with your problem if you help me with mine."

Rowan merely nodded in response, unsure of what he was committing to. But there was no other choice right now. If Vane was right, he would be captured mere miles from Anasteria. It would be the ultimate tip-off as to where she was, and they would go after her next.

The mask seemed to smile, "Very good. I shall go to the camp—"

"Wait," Rowan was finally able to regain his voice now, "You said you're a deserter. How do you expect to do that?"

A gloved hand went up for silence. "Now, now. I'm curious about something. Were you part of the crowd that made that silly bet on my gender?"

Rowan shook his head.

"It's a shame you didn't stake any money. I'd like to have known what your guess was."

"Will I get to know now?"

"Yes."

Things were beginning to make sense now and Rowan felt himself relax. Vane's disguise was, ironically, not a disguise at all. Walking into the camp unmasked, no one would recognize the rogue.

"What do you need from the camp, and why do you need my help for it?" he asked finally.

"There's a certain document that I neglected to leave behind when I went away. I'd like it returned to me, but I cannot do it on my own. Too many guards to dodge."

Rowan rubbed his coarse chin, briefly annoyed that he hadn't shaved before leaving Stormwind.

"Why can't you stealth and get it?" he asked.

An annoyed sigh immediately followed his question. "You must not remember the important fact that the Sentinels are using the ley line that passes through the camp to imbue themselves with spying abilities. I couldn't very well sneak in there without being seen. On the other hand, they are less likely to notice you if I have their full attention. I will provide the distraction, you will sneak in to steal the document and use the orb. It's ridiculously simple."

He felt himself getting annoyed at Vane's condescension, but held his tongue. He could take no chances with being recognized. Perhaps the rogue's plan wasn't too unreasonable. The notion that it would be "ridiculously simple" was what worried him.

"How do I know I can trust you?"

"With a face like mine, how could you not? You're already having to put trust in the fact that I won't tell anyone you're here. It wouldn't hurt your cause to help me out if you want to ensure that your whereabouts stay private."

_So, in essence, I'm screwed. _Anger flashed momentarily through him at the thought of how easily he'd been defeated by the rogue. Life in Stormwind consisted of following someone else's orders. Jumping through hoops to make a living. Even after his close call with capture, he was still serving the will of someone he couldn't entirely trust.

"What if I have to kill someone?"

"For the love of Elune, don't be a brute. Just take the hilt of your dagger and pop it against their temple. You do know how to do that, yes?"

Rowan's face darkened, "If you want my help, I suggest you control this constant urge of yours to act like a smartass. What's so important about this scroll anyway?"

But Vane merely shook its head. "That's my business. Just like the scrying orb is yours. Now, am I correct in assuming that those robes belong to the Sin'dorei you turned traitor with?"

Before he knew it, Rowan was bent over Vane, hands clenched around its throat. "I am no traitor," he snarled.

Vane snorted, relaxing his body against the deadly grip. With a flicker of embarrassment, Rowan released him. If things were as the rogue said, it would do him no good to sacrifice his only chance at finding Anasteria.

"I shall help you pack your things. We best be getting to camp at noon. Their powers are reduced at full light."

* * *

It _had_ been ridiculously simple.

Bent over a low wooden table in the lead Sentinel's tent, Vane was discussing the fictitious attack that was about to be launched on the camps by amateur paladins, warlocks, mages, and other Sin'dorei riff-raff. The document was easy enough to find, sewn into the canvas lining of one of the outer tents. Rowan looked at the neatly-rolled scroll, tempted to break the seal and read it. He resisted, however, not wanting to be bothered with whatever kill-on-sight order was written within. The rogue, who was in fact male, spoke in low serious tones as the Sentinels met his eyes with utmost attention.

Vane had a slender, shrewd face to match his slight figure. He audibly deepened his voice, so as not to give away his former self. Stuffing the scroll into his pack, Rowan crept to the enormous glowing orb in the center of the camp. He positioned himself in the shadows at the base, in case one of his old comrades cast a glance in his direction. Rowan stared up at it, momentarily stunned at the sheer beauty and power that emanated from it. Closing his eyes, he summoned a fragment of the orb's power and uttered the Command of Searching. The command was a half-spell that non-magical elves could conduct with general ease as long as they were close to the orb. As the power flowed through him, he opened his eyes to see a scene materialize into view before him. Lips parting in surprise, he watched, rapt with joy at the sight he'd gone so long without.

* * *

Anasteria lay there. The sunlight caught her honey-colored hair, projecting halos of gold around the loosely-bound locks. She lay completely still, eyes staring upward unblinkingly. It was as if she was concentrating on a spot on the ceiling, unable to tear her attention away until a voice beside her spoke.

"_You're starting to show," it said._

It was that..that scoundrel. The paladin's name fled his mind the moment he saw the flame-haired dog lay his cheek to her stomach, kissing it lovingly..possessively.

"_Yes," she replied simply, flicking her gaze back to the ceiling._

"_What is it that has you so indifferent toward me?" he asked, raising his head to look at her. His fel-green eyes bore a mixture of pain and offense. _

_Body unmoving, she replied, "Nothing, love. I just need to rest." _

Though her eyes never met his, she brushed her hand across his reassuringly. The afternoon light danced across the bejeweled ring she wore, reflecting rainbows across her fair skin. The ring—considered gaudy by Night Elf standards—looked almost too large for her slender finger, as though it were a burden instead of a token of love.

* * *

Rowan tore himself away from the orb as the significance of situation struck him. _Married. Pregnant. _The words constricted around his throat like a rattlesnake and his lungs sought the damp forest air in ragged heaves. Every notion he previously had about failing rose to the surface, mocking him for his stupidity. _I told you so, _they seemed to say. Not even the cool, refreshing breeze could temper the pangs of grief that threatened to overcome him. Before he allowed himself to be fully dissuaded from seeing her, he reached a ginger hand toward the orb. He had come too far to let his own cowardice stop him only miles away. The scene of the room was still there, but the bed was empty. Focusing his sight to the window, he vaguely recognized the bustle of the Royal Exchange. A splendidly wealthy side of Silvermoon frequented by the Sin'dorei aristocracy. Tasius didn't skimp when it came to showering his wife with every luxury to be had. _His wife.._

His face darkened as his mind echoed that painful truth back to him. His _wife_. A woman who was nothing more than a conquest to him. Perhaps the shallow vessel that was his heart contained a measure of love for Anasteria and, in turn, maybe she loved him as well. But nothing could deny the fact that it was a marriage of convenience for Anasteria. Determined not to allow his mind to slip deeper into speculation, he withdrew into the shadows to wait for Vane. As he sat beneath a rotting willow, Rowan felt a sudden longing to speak to Ryalle. She would know whether or not he should continue to Silvermoon. Part of him knew that the once-barmaid would be adamant that he rescue her from the brutish Tasius. Humans were a young race driven by passion and emotion, evidenced by folk tales that sang the beauty of love and the glory of war.

Lost in his thoughts, he barely noticed Vane stepping cautiously toward their meeting spot, his thin lips twisted into a triumphant smile. As he watched Vane draw close, Rowan couldn't help but realize that he was the type of rogue that was second to none. Keen with a blade and clever with his words, Vane was indeed a weapon. _The sooner I get away from him the better, _he thought.

"Give it here," Vane nearly exclaimed, barely able to hide the apprehension in his voice.

Rowan had barely handed it to him when the rogue snatched it away with a self-satisfied air. His eyes fell to the crimson wax seal, embossed with the image of stags locking horns that he hadn't noticed before. As his mind began to form a connection to the symbol, Vane tucked the scroll into the inner-folds of his cloak. Best not to know; he was in enough trouble as it was.

"This is where we part ways," Rowan broke the silence. "Now that you can't hide my daggers from me, I suggest you mind whatever business that scroll has for you and not follow me."

Replacing his mask, Vane replied, "You worry worse than a woman. Like I have nothing better to do than to sneak around behind you all day? Though if we happen to cross paths again, I will take you in myself. I could do with a heavier bag of coin."

"If that ever happens, I look forward to a fair fight." The words were meant to sound tough, but the burden of knowledge from the scrying orb weakened them.

"_Antero'shan*_, there is no such thing as a fair fight amongst rogues."

Without a nod or backward glace, the rogue threw up the hood of his cloak and slipped away. Rowan waited a few moments before stealthing, making doubly sure that Vane had taken his leave. As the Ghostlands gradually gave way to the artificial paradise of Eversong, Rowan felt his heart lighten. Without the stench of the corrupt forest, his mind cleared itself of dark thoughts. If he went ahead with his plan, two things could happen. Anasteria could agree to go with him. The idea of it made Rowan's heart swell with love and fear. How would he protect her? Where would he take her?

Yes, two things could happen if he continued toward Silvermoon. Take her away or be killed. Somehow, his mind was content with either outcome.

* * *

*_Antero'shan_: Honored colleague

_A/N: It has been a terribly long time since I've updated this story and I do apologize! I've gotten several PMs from people asking me to continue it and after a sudden bout of inspiration, I have! Thank you to all who have waited so patiently for this chapter to come out. I appreciate the support so much. In fact, I probably would have never returned to writing it if there wasn't this much support for it. So, please, do review! _


	20. A Little Help From My Friends

**A Little Help From My Friends**

**

* * *

**

There really was no way for Ryalle to disguise herself as an Undead. Even a heavy, large-hooded black robe couldn't obscure the fact that she smelled too...fresh. Too alive. Bored, she stared at the empty spool that sat lonesomely at the edge of Roderick's work table. It was accompanied by a number of even more random objects, leaving Ryalle to wonder what Roderick actually _did _ in here. With a tired sigh, she flicked the spool away. It disappeared into a shadowy corner with a soft _clink._

"I am glad to see that I've returned in time to prevent you from plunging my lab into utter chaos," Roderick stepped into the crumbled doorway, spool in hand.

The gravelled voice held a hint of reproach, though through the darkness she could see the corner of his mouth tugged upward in a bemused smirk. Bemused. It was one of the words that best described him. There was something about the "unlife," as Roderick called it, that replaced the intense emotional reactions of humans. Everything was accepted with cool understanding and forethought, as opposed to her own unruly human ways. But he loved her despite all that.

"Just a forewarning. If you even think about pickling me and putting me into a jar with these.." She gave a nearby jar an experimental shake, holding it up to the candlelight for a better look.

"Murloc brains," he completed.

It was everything she could do to not drop the jar in revulsion. Before such a thing could happen, Roderick rescued it from her hands, placing it one shelf higher. She blushed, feeling much like a child who couldn't be trusted around the delicate treasures that "grown-ups" possessed.

Sensing her discomfort, Roderick placed a cool hand upon her flushed cheek, "I have missed your presence."

Ryalle covered his hand with her own, "You say that now."

He only laughed, his hollow chest echoing the sound back to her ever so slightly. Ryalle rose from the stool to face him. They were matched in height though, in his human days, Roderick must have been quite tall. Lank black hair framed keen golden eyes and a stout chin—something she was grateful he possessed. Many of his kind had to make do without a lower jaw and it undoubtedly made verbal communication difficult. The only way to compensate for such a side effect was to add grunts and moans to Gutterspeak, the mother tongue of the Forsaken.

"I think it's become apparent that I can't stay in your laboratory all day," she said after a long silence.

It was something they both knew but hadn't yet addressed. Her journey to Silvermoon, despite what she told Rowan, wasn't to be with Roderick permanently. Such notions could only exist as dreams for her. The world would not let them be happy so easily. Azeroth seldom enjoyed peace for any long period of time due to the fact that there were so many..bad people out there. The Scourge to the North, The Burning Legion, The Horde, hell..even the Defias. Enemies that fall upon Azeroth like avalanches from all directions. All she knew was that, despite the best effort of their leaders, the Horde and Alliance would never truly see each other as equals. Too many agendas, too much politics. It all trickled down. Were anyone to catch wind of their relationship... the thought made her shiver. The Forsaken reserved the worst punishments for traitors, ranging from being burned alive to being cannibalized.

Roderick let a thin finger brush against her curls, "You will go after your friend?" He tilted her chin so they were eye to eye.

"I'm not sure."

"He may require your help. One man against a city of his enemies yields..unfavorable odds."

Ryalle raised an eyebrow, "And for me to go along would even things out? Rowan is a rogue. He can sneak past everyone. I'd be about as useful as a bag of bricks with bells attached. I couldn't even get past the city gates if I wanted to."

"I can," Roderick said. "I'm about due to meet our ambassador in the city. It wouldn't be terribly odd of me to arrive tonight and spend tomorrow sightseeing. I'll have Tullen look in on the patients."

She rolled her eyes, "Let me guess, you're going to put me in a potato sack, ride me to Silvermoon, then drop me off on the doorstep of where Rowan is supposed to be? Please, Roderick. I was always under the impression that the Undead were our more sensible counterparts. You're really making me start to doubt that."

He released the curl that was twined around his fingers, "My apologies for not being clear with you," he murmured. "This Rowan fellow would be able to slip into the city without rousing the guards, but it's quite unlikely that he will leave in that fashion. How will he sneak the Sin'dorei away? I assume she's not a rogue."

Ryalle explained the situation as best she could. Despite her most enthusiastic description, she couldn't help but realize that Rowan's plan seemed almost impossible. There was the mother priestess, the husband, and a city full of guards. Anasteria wouldn't go unnoticed for long. Why hadn't Rowan come to the same conclusion she had? Why hadn't he realized how dangerous this undertaking would be? Part of her told her that he did understand. She remembered the night at Donni's cabin where he jolted awake, babbling about having to save Anasteria's life. If Roderick's life were in danger, she wouldn't hesitate to do as Rowan was doing right now.

"I have heard of the Sin'dorei shadow priestess," he spoke after she finished. "Disarming her would be difficult, though finding her would not."

Ryalle gave him a weak smile and squeezed his hand, "I have a feeling we're already too late in helping him."

* * *

It was dusk when the Royal Exchange began to close up for the night. Storefronts were locked, merchant carts were shuttered and wheeled away. A group of sellers chatted with with the night guards, most likely offering to smith them shields that looked even more preposterous than the ones currently wielded. A warm breeze carried through the square, rippling the cloaks of everyone in sight. Where the merchants and guards might find the breeze comfortably warm, Rowan found his body burning up beneath his leather armor. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck and he was half-tempted to remove his cloak. _Just a few moments longer. _

Rowan had been waiting in the same place for hours and his body was beginning to ache from the stillness. He looked up at her window twice, wishing he could just charge up to her room and steal her away. A few shadows moved before the sheer curtains, but it was impossible to see who made then. With nothing better to do for at least a half hour more, Rowan went through a list of every tool and weapon he would need tonight. _Lockpick, dagger, anesthetic poisons, shortsword, grappling hook, flash powder, blinding powder, throwing knives, bandages.. _

Night had finally settled. A full compliment of stars surrounded a sliver of moon, causing the white flagstones to shimmer and glow in the light. Silvermoon was a beautiful place to live, despite its artificiality. The square was empty by now. None, but a few distant guards remained. Rowan found that odd until he remembered that a strict curfew was introduced when Regent Theron replaced Kael'thas.

Bringing the hood of his cloak up, Rowan stealthed and made for the narrow alleyway that led to the gardens. Tall wrought iron fencing sectioned off each house's garden, each one with a padlocked gate. _One, two..three_, he counted the gates until he came upon Anasteria's. Unlike the other garden gates, it bore no padlock. It was definitely warded, but Rowan touched the gate to make sure. No doubt the old witch priestess had done that. A warded door was no obstacle to him, especially if it was surrounded by a perfectly normal fence. He climbed and descended it without more than the soft crunch of his boots against gravel. The garden was truly exquisite. Jasmine, honeysuckle, and so many other flowers he couldn't identify, each with its own intoxicating fragrance. The pale creams and whites of their petals glowed in the moonlight. Moonlight gardens_, _Rowan remembered they were called. It was surprising to see that the Sin'dorei still carried a few Night Elf customs.

It took a it of angling and wedging with the lockpick before he heard the lock yield with a small click. The old door swung outward as though only the lock could hold it in place. Sweet smells of bread and meat indicated that it was likely a kitchen How large the room was, Rowan could not say. It was pitch black, but for a dying cookfire in the hearth. Anasteria's bedroom was somewhere in the upper floors. Somehow, he was going to have to find her before her in-laws found him.

"No," a woman's voice snapped in the distance. "Must I repeat myself again, you stupid girl? Wash and press them again. I'll not entertain guests with spotted linen. Spend all night on it if you have to."

Elluine's footsteps faded away, leaving Rowan half-tempted to follow her to her bedchamber and kill her there. The thought of making her beg for her life was more than appealing, but as he felt his legs begin to carry him forward he was stopped short by the sight before him. The portrait was set in a gilt, ornately-carved frame. Tasius stood tall, armored completely in red-gold plate but for his helm which was tucked under one arm. _How fucking gallant. _

The spiraled stone steps were dimly lit, much to Rowan's relief. There was less of a chance of being seen when he had shadows to hide to take refuge in. A few servants trudged down the steps, exhausted by the looks of their half-closed eyelids. And it was there that he spied the double doors, the largest in the upstairs hallway. The doors, masterfully inlaid with depictions of battle and beauty, showed that whoever dwelt within was truly a person of wealth. One of the doors was ajar, a pool of yellow light spilling out into the gloom of the hall. She was in there. He knew it. His legs, weary from the cautious climb up the stairs now moved with certainty. Certainty blindly told him that Anasteria was perfectly alone. That they would run away somewhere together and she would have her child and they would raise it together, no matter whose seed created it.

Rowan placed his hand on the door and pushed it forward, hand readied at the hilt of his dagger. It swung open, only to reveal what looked like an empty room. Feeling his jaw tighten in dismay, he nearly turned away when he heard the gentle rustle sheets.

"Anasteria." He said her name as if it were holier than that of any god—old or new. No, he never bastardized it by shortening into a name that others found convenient. _Ana_, it was a name that was common to housemaids and milk girls.

The mound of blankets shifted and a head of golden hair popped out from the pillowy feather duvet. He went to her, pulling the covers back completely and taking her into his arms. She laid limp in his arms at first, murmuring words he could not understand. Gods be good, she had grown so thin.

"It cannot be you.." he finally heard her say.

Taking her chin gently in one hand, he lifted it until their eyes met. At that moment, he wanted to say everything to her. To beg her forgiveness, to tell her he loved her more than he loved anything else, to tell her that he would honor her more than anyone else. The words died in his throat as he held her, pressing her body close so he could inhale her scent. For a while, they stayed in that position until he spoke.

"We must go. We've already lingered here too long."

"There is no going," she replied simply.

He looked at her, puzzled. "Anasteria, I came here to take you with me. We _will_ leave this place. I know about Tasius. I know about the pregnancy. Please, if you're worried about that—"

She sat up, eyes wide and fully awake. "How could you know?"

"It's too long of a story to tell right now. For now, we have to get out of this house. Leaving Silvermoon won't be as hard if we can make it out without a battle."

It was then that she laughed and for that small moment, she appeared exactly as he remembered. Her face glowed with the essence of youth, erasing the lines left behind by stress and exhaustion. Rowan's hands clasped hers tightly, pulling her from the bed.

"There will be a battle. Believe it," she answered, allowing him to help her to her feet. "I will not leave here without one. For a year, I've held out.."

Her words trailed off. "I know I seem different to you, Rowan. I have learned little about love and plenty about betrayal. To let Elluine live would be a betrayal to my son. To let Tasius live would be dangerous as well."

It should have been shocking to hear that she wished her husband and mother-in-law dead. Yet the words only served to fuel his anger at the pair. Her marriage to Tasius was undoubtedly his idea, his idea to impregnate her, everything. The both of them meddled enough in her life. She was scarcely recognizable after a year of marriage to him. What about five years later? Ten?

"I will fight them then," he said finally. "But for now, get dressed."

* * *

_**A/N: **Wow, this chapter has been wanting to come out for some time. Since my last chapter, a ton of things have changed for me in the realm of real life. I've moved across the country and started college here a few weeks ago. It's crazy and stressful, but writing this chapter has definitely helped out with that. :) Let me know what you think. Oh, and I really do want to thank you all for continuing to read CNB, despite its constant breaks between chapters. Believe it or not, I used to crank out a chapter every two days for this story. XD I wouldn't call them "good" chapters though._


	21. The Night Without End

The Night Without End

* * *

She was once a formidable noblewoman, the haughtiest of her sisters who enjoyed every splendor of Quel'dorei culture. Plays, banquets, and cotillions filled her early years with daydreams and folly. Yes, she was destined for so much. Had the siege of Silvermoon City never happened, there was no doubt that Elluine could have re-married into House Brightwing or Theron. The dream still lay close to her heart, her back straightened and shoulders were thrown back as she watched her servants mill about. Even in her modest mansion, she still honored the gift that the siege had left in its wake: shrewdness.

"My lady," breathed Garad, a boy shy of 16 who took to polishing her son's armor. Tasius had never wanted a second pair of hands touching his armor, but status often took precedence over such matters. The boy fixed his eyes to Elluine's cloth slippers, his chest heaving as if he'd been chased about the city by a pack of wolves.

Allowing her mouth to fall into a slight scowl, she nodded him to speak.

He balled his fists into his loose tunic before stammering, "Lord T-tasius had not yet left his articles for burnishing. I went to f-fetch him, but.." Garad's white knuckles trembled at his sides. "I was going up the stairs to his study when I passed his bedchambers. I didn't go in, my lady, I swear it. There was a strange voice..not his lord's voice though. I never meant to.." He swallowed, his pale face tight with fear.

She seized the front of his tunic, "You never meant to what?"

Garad's eyes were clenched shut now and his words tumbled out through quivering lips, "I saw the door was open, and I looked in. I saw Lady Anasteria with a stranger. H-his arms were around her--"

Before he could finish, Elluine's hand shot out and grabbed hold of his messy brown hair. Through gritted teeth, she spat, "You will _never _refer to that whore as Lady. Ever again. Now go."

When she let go, the boy lurched forward, nearly colliding with a priceless vase. Elluine didn't notice though. Smoothing her robes, she composed herself and stepped purposefully toward the spiraling stairs, one hand clenched tightly around the wand at her side.

* * *

Rowan pressed himself against the cool stone wall, willing his heart to stop slamming against his chest. Sweat dewed his forehead and his lungs spasmed for more air than he could allow them to receive. It would hardly be an act of stealth if Tasius heard him panting. _Everything could go wrong, _he told himself. If he didn't kill the paladin in one stroke, the household would hear their grappling and Elluine would come to finish the fight. His life, as well as Anasteria's, would be forfeit. Though he didn't know much of the shadow priestess, he sensed an evil about her that promised their deaths would not come painlessly.

With a tentative step, he made his way to the uppermost floor. The room at the top was lit by several white crystals, each affixed around the perimeter of a domed ceiling. The effect was dramatic, providing not a single shadow for him to take refuge in. Tasius sat in the center, his lean form bent in concentration over a scroll. Rowan couldn't help to notice that he, too, had changed. Weariness took hold of a once boyish face. Had the world changed so much in a year? The paladin was dipping a quill into an inkwell, his red hair falling into his face as he began to write.

_Go, _his mind screamed. With both hands on his daggers, he sidestepped around Tasius, positioning himself behind the paladin as quietly as he could. The daggers hissed from their sheaths, their metal fangs eager for blood. As Rowan raised them, ready to strike, his hands froze, suspended over Tasius' back. He was about to take the life of Anasteria's husband. No, that meant little to nothing, but he was the true father of her child. There would come a day where he would have to tell his son or daughter the truth. Would he be able to justify taking Tasius' life?

_It must be done._

But before he could make peace with that fact, Tasius rose abruptly from his seat and wheeled around to face him full on.

"No," Rowan nearly yelled, bringing his daggers up. _I won't let things go wrong again._

Eyes wide in alarm, Tasius barely dodged the lunge. He stumbled backward, knocking the desk over with a clamor that echoed off the marble ceiling. Rowan could see his momentary disorientation and brought his daggers up for another attack. Yet before he could complete the dive, Tasius bowled into him shoulder first. The blow knocked Rowan into a bookcase and despite his efforts to slip away, the paladin blocked his escape. A pale hand snatched Rowan's wrist and twisted hard. His dagger fell to the floor.

Before Tasius could take hold of his other wrist, Rowan slammed his head into the paladin's nose. A sharp curse left his lips and he backed away, one hand clutching his nose and the other searching blindly for a weapon. With a graceful swoop, the rogue rescued his dagger from the floor and reached for the pouch at his waist. _The first line of defense. _Rowan hastily undid the tie on the pouch and emptied it onto the floor, shutting his own eyes tight as he did so. The blinding powder erupted from the floor in roiling clouds of white. At that point, Rowan did all he could do. Pulling his mask on, he searched the room until he found Tasius' back.

Tasius' misty form stood still but for his arms outstretched in front of him. No doubt, the paladin was trying to feel for a way out. This time, there was no hesitation. Rowan rushed at his back, his right blade ready to plunge through the light silk shirt and into his heart.

As the dagger came within inches of striking, a sudden, invisible forced pushed back against it. It was an odd feeling, like trying to strike jelly.

Casually, Tasius turned to face him, eyes blazing with triumph as his hands glowed with the charge of a spell.

"I do not have much time to hold this shield, so you will answer my very simple question before we pick up again. Why have you come here?"

Rowan steadied himself, bringing his daggers into a defensive position. "I've come to reclaim what you have stolen from me."

* * *

It wasn't cold that night, but Anasteria threw the dark woolen cloak over her shoulders. She didn't expect to leave the house without a fight, so she slipped her wand into the sash of her robe. It had been an eternity since she'd defended herself with shadow magic, and even then her skills were amateur. She begged Tasius to allow her to resume her studies in Undercity, but would have none of it. She was a wife now and her duties apparently no longer included an education. If that weren't the worst part, Elluine conspired with her son. The old hag drove off her parents to the point where they only came to visit during feastdays and even then, the tension was unsettling.

She pushed the door to the armoire shut and turned to survey the room, only to see Elluine standing in the doorway. Anasteria barely had a moment to grab her wand when the elder priestess hurled a bolt of shadowed energy at her. It wasn't a powerful hit, but it knocked her backward onto the bed. Clutching her wand, she fired back. Almost lazily, Elluine blocked the bolt. Gods, it was hopeless. Anasteria was as much of a match for the priestess as a rabbit for a lion.

"Going for a walk, are we? It's much too late for that. You'll catch a chill," Elluine chided,

Anasteria lay on the bed, pinned to the feather mattress by an invisible iron grip. The room was hot; the fireplace stoked high for the night. She felt a drip of sweat bead down her neck and in a sudden fleeting moment, a surge of power raced through her like lightning. She forced the grip away, slowly at first. Elluine's eyes narrowed in concentration as she held the spell.

"You will not betray my son like this, you little slut," she spoke with some effort. The spell was costing her much more than Anasteria realized.

With the grip relaxed enough to speak, she whispered, "He sent me to a warzone. He betrayed my trust long before I ever--"

The pressure around her neck suddenly increased until she was gasping for air. _She's going to choke me to death, _she realized. Her body writhed, as if twisting around would somehow force air back into her lungs. The world spun around her, and as she began to feel the deep sleep of unconsciousness approach. With the last ounce of strength she had, she resorted to begging.

"My son," she choked, a sob tightening in her throat. "I didn't mean what I said. Please..please.."

Suddenly, she could breathe again. Her lungs frantically gulped in the air in case the priestess stole it away again. The world straightened itself out again and she saw Elluine's shadowed form facing her, back turned to the fireplace. A spell was on the priestess's lips. A spell that caused every flame in the room to sputter. With a force like she'd never felt before, Anasteria was slammed against the wall.

Elluine wore a mask of cool serenity, "You dare beg to spare the life of your bastard? I know all about your little visit with the child's true father. The cloaked figure that Tasius' little squire saw with you but minutes ago. What were you planning to do? Disgrace this family by eloping? You were always a stupid girl."

As she struggled to bring herself upright, another blow forced her back. Another, and another, until Anasteria realized that she was going to die that night. _Gods help me,_ _Rowan, help me, _she prayed. _Tasius help me._ She could feel the dark spell devouring her body inch by inch, each moment more painful than the last. The candle beside her guttered out, leaving the priestess backlit by the fireplace. An ominous silhouette, Elluine took one of Tasius' swords from the wall.

People often say that their lives flash before their eyes when death is close. They see their childhood, their parents teaching them to walk, their first kiss. Anasteria only saw the future. The son that she would never meet. Her true love that she would never lay with. The world she would leave behind. Distantly, she felt a pounding in her stomach. _He's fighting, when I have given up_, she mused. It wasn't possible, the child was only a couple months along.

But she still felt it. Something wanted her to fight. _I have no strength left, _she pled to the small life within her. The images flicked before her eyes again, though different from before. She saw a world where Elluine's machinations ended this very night, by Anasteria's own hand. A fury suddenly took over. Elluine would not get by with murder. She would not take the life of her child without recompense. Closing her eyes, Anasteria's mind reached out, not to the shadow, but to the Light. Its power opened to her like a flower to the sun, filling her with more energy than she had ever wielded.

Elluine saw the spell being conjured and dove at her.

"This is to kill you," her eyes glowed maniacally as her hands encircled her throat. A searing, white-hot pain took hold of Anasteria. "And this is to make sure you never come back."

With both hands on the heavy hilt, Elluine brought the sword down on Anasteria's chest.

The room was darkening and Anasteria finally knew that's what dying looked like, though she would never be able to tell anyone. With hands outstretched, she released the spell that had lingered on her fingertips. The room seemed to lighten for an instant before she finally closed her eyes.

* * *

_**A/N:** Hey all! No, I've not keeled over. I'm happy to say that this chapter was churned out due to midnight inspiration! I finished editing it a day later and hope you enjoy. Don't be disheartened about what happened here. This isn't the end and the next chapter will be the last of this story. I want a little input from those of you who read this. Sequel? No sequel? I feel that the writing style of this chapter has come a long way, even if it sort of did lack a little in the character department. Would you like to see another arc to this story? Let me know. As always, I appreciate every single one of you who has taken the time to read my story. It makes me feel a little teary to see how much support I've gotten along the way. Thank you all. _


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